


Subject 100

by CCs_World



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, And then i did something really bad, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Lab Rat Taako, M/M, Mostly Just Angst Folks, Multi, Needles, Stares Down The TAZ Discord, Temporary Character Death, Whoops it got gay, You did this to me, lab AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-03-04 10:23:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13362630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CCs_World/pseuds/CCs_World
Summary: When Taako is sold to Goldcliffe Labs as a child, he is not expecting the horrors he becomes subject to. He loses his home, his family, his name, and every right as a living, breathing being.Taako must learn how to survive on his own in this hostile environment of white cinderblock, cold metal tables, needles, and the pain of experiments. So who is this Voice in his head, saying his real name, telling him he is loved, speaking to him like he's a friend? Who is security guard Magnus Burnsides really, and why is he so friendly? And what is the purpose of Goldcliffe Labs?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> *stares at the TAZ Discord* I hope you all are happy.  
> Anyway here's yet another fic I've started. Don't expect updates to be anywhere close to regular.

Goldcliffe Labs was a tall, horseshoe-shaped building located in the city of Goldcliffe, a quaint small city in central Missouri known for its banks, its intellects, and the gigantic lab located on its outskirts. The laboratory was first built in the 1930s, shortly after the Magic Scares across the country--an event which was brought about by magic-users of every race, but mainly led by magical races, and resulted in the deaths of countless people and the destruction of many cities.

Within the walls of Goldcliffe Labs, human scientists worked to study the sources, mechanics, and uses of magic. Nobody quite knew exactly what went on within those walls, but its activity picked up significantly during times of war.

Rumors spread quickly about the lab. Some said that the disappearances of small children, namely dwarves, elves, and gnomes, were linked to the lab. Others said that they were building weapons of mass destruction. Still others said that they were dedicated to eradicating all magic and magic races.

A majority of humans were fine with whatever they were doing within the labs. After the Magic Scares, people--especially humans--were terrified of anything that even slightly suggested magic, and if the scientists in the lab were working to get rid of it or control it, then it was probably for the best.

Besides, people said, who cares about the missing children? Those little freaks should be locked away somewhere and put to good use.

* * *

[September 2, 1968]

Taako was having the time of his life.

He got to live with his nice, plump auntie all the time. He got to help her cook and he got whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. Everyone was so nice to him because his nice auntie had so many nice friends who always wanted to talk to him.

The little blonde elf, just barely five years old, had just completed preschool and was moving on to real school this fall! His auntie had gotten him a new backpack--it was green, with bright orange birds--and new clothes for this special first day of school!

Taako was excited for school. His auntie and all his friends had told him that school was a fun place where everyone learned. His auntie said that at the school he was going to,  _ everyone _ was going to learn stuff. People would even get to learn stuff from him! He didn’t think that was what happened in school but he trusted his auntie.

So when his auntie gave him his backpack and led him to her dinged-up SUV in the driveway behind her little white house in the suburbs, he didn’t even hesitate to follow her. After all, why would his auntie ever lie to him?

They drove for a long time. “Why don’t I get to take the school bus, auntie?” he asked at one point. “All the other kids ride on a school bus.”

“You’re going to a special school,” his auntie told him. “That school doesn’t have school buses. I have to take you there myself.”

“Oh.”

Most of the drive there, he colored in his coloring books. He didn’t look out the window much. After all, what’s so interesting about trees and houses?

“Okay, Taako, we’re here,” she finally announced as the car slowed to a halt in a neatly-paved parking lot.

“Finally,” he groaned, pushing open his door and sliding out, dragging out his new green backpack with him.

She led him down a grey sidewalk lined with some half-brown grass which took them to the entrance of a big, grey building. Under a wide silver awning stood a set of giant metal doors with tiny little windows in them.

“Alright, kiddo,” Taako’s auntie said. “We’re gonna go in these big doors here, okay?”

“Okay!” he chorused back, and waited for her to pull them open.

She held the door open so the child could step into a big lobby with white tile ceilings and white tile floors and white cinderblock walls and grey straight-backed chairs. A bunch of grown-ups stood there, wearing grey suits and white shirts. They all had brown hair. They were all human.

“Wait in here, okay?” his aunt said, before she and all of the grown-ups walked through the lobby and went through a wooden door.

Taako plopped himself down with his backpack in one of the grey chairs. It wasn’t very comfy.

He waited for probably  _ hours _ although the clock said it had only been about fifteen minutes. Then, all the grown-ups came back out. It looked like one of them had just given something to his auntie. She was crying.

“Auntie?” he said, jumping off the chair and running to her. “What’s wrong?”

“Sit down, elfling,” one of the suited grown-ups said. “She’s leaving now.”

“I’m sorry, Taako,” his auntie whispered. “Good luck.”

“Auntie?” he whimpered.

“I said, sit  _ down, _ ” the grown-up said, pointing to one of the uncomfy chairs.

“No!” Taako said. “I wanna stay with my auntie!”

“She has to leave. She’s going.”

As this conversation transpired, Taako watched over the grown-up’s shoulder as his auntie walked towards the big doors.

“No!” Taako cried out. “I don’t wanna stay here!” He tried to run after her, but two of the grown-ups caught him by his arms and jerked him to a halt. “No, no, no!” he screamed, and he was starting to cry, and his auntie was crying, and she pushed open the big door and slipped out into the sunny September day and Taako was left alone in the big scary white place with the big scary grown-ups and he was alone.

He fought and he fought against the big scary people until he was completely worn out, worn down, exhausted. Once his energy was depleted it was too easy for the grown-ups to sit him down in a chair and tell him that “This was where he was going to live now” and “You’re going to do so much for us here” and “You really don’t have to be scared as long as you listen to us” but Taako only sort of listened. He was sad and he was scared and he was lonely and why did auntie leave him?

“Okay, elfling, follow us,” one of the people said, and tugged Taako to his feet, leading him through another set of doors--wooden this time, like where his auntie had gone into--and into a long, white, cinderblock hallway lined with doors that had numbers on them.

“These are the classrooms,” another grown-up told him. “This is where most of the learning happens.”

They turned a corner and went up a flight of stairs which led to another white cinderblock hallway lined with more numbered doors. “These are testing rooms. You’re going to be in this hallway a lot.”

Another flight of stairs. Another hall. More doors.

“More classrooms, and a couple of lecture halls are here.”

Another flight of stairs. This time, the hallway was narrow and dimly-lit. The doors in this hall were made of metal. “This is where you’ll spend your off-hours.”

Taako looked around. It was a little creepy, and it smelled a bit musty. He wrinkled his nose.

“This is your room,” one of them said, pulling open a door. Taako peeked in.

Inside was a narrow bed with some white sheets and a single grey blanket. The floor was made of white tile, the walls of white cinderblock, the ceiling of the same cinderblock. There was a little window, but it had thick glass and chicken wire in it.

Taako shook his head. “I want a better one.”

“Man, she really spoiled the kid,” one grown-up muttered to the rest. “This is just going to make it harder.” He turned to Taako. “Sorry, elfling, this is your room.” He pushed Taako in and quickly closed the door.

“Let me out!” Taako immediately threw himself against the door, trying to open it, but it was locked. “Let me out, let me out, let me out!”

He punched the door. Kicked the door. Screamed at the door. But it didn’t open. The grown-ups had left Taako in this cold, white room, and he was all alone without his auntie or any friends.

He sniffled. It was kind of scary.

It was  _ really _ scary.

“Auntie,” he whimpered. “I wanna go home.”

No response. Of course.

“I wanna go home,” he said again, and then he sat down on the floor and wailed it. The wails turned to sobs, the sobs turned to whimpers, and the whimpers to whispers. Eventually, he fell asleep.

* * *

[September 3, 1968]

His sleep was restless, and eventually he was awakened from his half-doze by the door opening and someone saying, “Get up, elfling.”

“M’ name’s Taako,” he mumbled sleepily as he stood up.

“Not anymore,” the person said. She was wearing a long white coat. “Your name is Subject 100.”

“Subject 100,” Taako repeated. “What’s it mean?”

She smiled wryly. Her sharp red lips curled. It wasn’t very pleasant to look at. “It means you’re the 100th elfling we’ve let in here. It’s a very special name.”

He grinned. “I like my new name.”

Her smile stretched her face wider. Taako held in a shudder. He didn’t like her smile.

“Come on, elfling,” she said, and the elf could detect the steel under the layers of fake candy. “Let’s go to school.”

Taako suppressed another shudder but followed the woman out of the room. As she walked down the hall, heels clicking authoritatively, Taako heard footsteps behind him. Turning his head just slightly, he was able to see another suited person--male, he thought--walking behind him. He had a gun in his belt.

They walked down two flights of stairs to the hallway of what Taako remembered was the “testing rooms”.

At the other end of the hallway, Taako saw an elf girl being led into one of the rooms. She glanced at him and their eyes locked for a split second. Then she was tugged into the room, the door closed, and she was gone.

The woman didn’t even blink. She just said, “This one. Come on,” and pushed open a door to one of the rooms.

It was cold, and Taako instinctively wrapped his arms around himself. Looking around, he saw that the room was quite spacious and, since it was dimly-lit, the shadows made it look even bigger. There were a few other people--all humans--wearing white coats standing in the room looking authoritative and standing beside a big stainless steel table.

Taako smiled at them. “Hi!” he said. “I’m Taako.”

The woman put a hand in his messy blonde hair and roughly tugged his head back to look at her. He squawked at the sudden pain and flailed his hands at the fingers in his hair as she snarled, “Subject 100.”

“S-Subject 100,” Taako repeated shakily, tears welling in his eyes unbidden as she yanked again before letting go.

“For future reference, elfling,” the woman said, her voice several degrees chillier than the temperature of the room, “you do not speak in the testing rooms unless one of us asks you a question. Do you understand?”

Taako nodded, biting his lip with his protruding front teeth.

“I said, do you understand?” the woman said louder, her hand once more pulling on Taako’s hair.

He whimpered in pain. “Y-yes.”

“Excellent,” she smiled, and released him. He gasped and staggered where he stood. 

“Now, ladies and gentlemen,” she continued in a businesslike tone, “this is Subject 100. We just got it in this morning. It has not gone through the formal examinations yet, but this one is special, I think. Our readings were higher on its magical energy than on any other elfling we’ve had yet.”

One of the scientists walked over to Taako on long, thin legs. He crouched in front of the tiny elf and put a slender hand under Taako’s chin, inspecting his face. Taako scrutinized the scientist’s expression: clinical, cold, hard. Taako shivered, and the man gripped his face a little too hard, making the child let out another pained noise. “Don’t move during inspection, elfling,” he commanded.

The next few minutes went by in a blur. Taako was inspected all over from head to toe, inside and out, back to front. He was asked to remove most of his clothing--all the way down to his dinosaur-print briefs and pale blue undershirt--and stood under the studious eyes of prodding and poking people for gods only knew how long.

“Fascinating,” one of the scientists commented, jabbing a thermometer into Taako’s mouth and reading it. “Its body is warmer than the others. It’s practically  _ humming _ with magical energy!”

A few locks of Taako’s hair were cut off, a cheek swab was collected, and--with a lot of struggle--a few vials of blood were collected.

“Take it to examinations now,” one of the scientists said, waving at the woman as he bent over his papers. “Go.”

Taako was led from the room, barefoot and still in just his underwear, to another testing room. Inside was just one scientist who performed similar inspections on him but also recorded his height and weight on a little clipboard. Then a syringe was brought out and Taako immediately flinched away from the needle before the scientist grabbed his arm and jabbed it into the flesh just below the shoulder. Taako cried out, earning a quick, sharp tug on his hair to silence him.

“It’s all set,” the scientist announced. “You're free to start the tests at any time.”

“Thank you, Derek,” the woman said, “we will begin shortly.”

Taako was ushered out of the room, followed by the woman. “You are to be tested in room 204,” the woman said.

He walked towards the door, then hesitated. He looked around--there, the staircase! He might still be able to escape!

A few more steps forward, to act natural, and then--

He only ran a few steps before the cold, long-nailed hands of the woman closed on his hair and yanked. He screamed, fought, pulled, clawed at her hands--

A sharp pain in his neck, the room went blurry, then--it was dark.

* * *

 

When Taako woke up, the first thing he noticed was the cold. He shivered as he slowly registered his surroundings and, in trying to move his limbs, discovered that they were strapped to a metal table. As he started to panic and struggle, he noticed that there were hundreds of wires and needles sticking into his skin. Why were they stuck into his skin? How did they get them in there? What was happening?

One of the scientists stepped into his line of sight and leaned forward, attaching something to his temples. “There we are,” he said cheerfully, stepping back. “All set. You're free to start.”

“Excellent,” another voice intoned--cold, smooth, rich. The speaker was just outside his line of sight. “Let us begin.”

There was the sound of a lever being pulled, the tapping of buttons, and the hum of some sort of machinery coming to life. The room grew a little warmer, and Taako relaxed in relief, the goosebumps on his arms beginning to fade.

And then what felt like molten lava entered his flesh and pure lightning bolts of agony consumed every nerve and his mind was full of images and emotions and knowledge and it hurt and Taako  _ screamed. _

He could vaguely hear them making remarks but eventually the ringing in his ears overpowered their clinical voices and the world went spotty, then greyscale, and then suddenly it cut to black and Taako was alone.

Where he was, he was more isolated than he’d ever been in his life. It was pitch black, completely silent, and utterly still. Nothing moved, nothing made a sound. He couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t hear anything. He couldn’t feel the air moving, couldn’t discern if he was cold or warm.

“Hello?” he called, and the blackness swallowed up his voice. “Hello?” he tried again.

_ Lo, _ someone said.

Who was that? Who said that?

He knew he’d heard a different voice. That wasn’t his voice. It was just a little higher.

“Who’s there?” he shouted.

Nothing.

Silence.

Then,  _ Lo? _

“Hi!” he yelled. “Hi, it’s me, it’s Taako, can you hear me?”

Silence.

He waited, and waited, and waited some more.

Hours passed. He waited for an answer, a confirmation, a word, anything at all.

But nothing ever came.

And once again, Taako was alone.

* * *

When Taako was pulled out of the Dark Place, it was so, so hard to open his eyes. Every muscle ached, and every part of him screamed for sleep.

“It’s incredible,” a voice said. “Did you see its neural activity? It spiked for just a second there.”

Taako finally forced his eyes open, just in time to see one of the scientists pull out a chart with a zig-zagged line on it. The scientist pointed to a part where the line spiked almost off the paper and said, “See? There. Do you think this one might be the key?”

“Absolutely,” the red-mouthed woman said. She and a few other scientists in the room pulled out notepads and started scribbling on them.

Taako struggled against the bands still strapping him to the cold table, and one of the scientists finally looked over at him. “Oh,” he said vaguely, and walked over to free Taako’s arms, and then his legs. “Someone call an escort in to take it back to its room.”

The red-mouthed woman reached for a white telephone on a counter and spoke a few words into it, but Taako wasn’t paying attention to her.

Taako was only left in the testing room for another few minutes before a big man in a black collared shirt came and grabbed his arm, pulling him into the hallway. As Taako was led back to his room, his eye was caught again by a door opening.

A gurney was wheeled into the hallway, and on that gurney was the elf girl he’d seen before the scientists put him in the Dark Place. Her face was ashen, and blood leaked from one of her temples. She wasn’t breathing.

Taako felt ill. “Um, excuse me?” he said very quietly to the big man.

“Quiet.”

Taako shut his mouth.

This place was scary. He didn’t know where he was, or who these people were, or why they were doing this stuff to him. He didn’t know what had happened to the elf girl, or where they were taking her. He didn’t know anything, and it was scary, and he just wanted to go home to where his auntie was and eat some cookies and play with his toys and read his books and go to school like a normal little boy.

But he couldn’t, he realized. He was stuck here, probably forever, and he was going to have to do whatever it took to not end up like that elf girl.

So Taako took a deep breath, steeled himself, and as the big man pushed him into his little room, Taako focused.

He sat on the floor as the door shut behind him, crossed his legs, clasped his hands like his auntie had showed him, closed his eyes, and he forgot his name.

He was no longer Taako Taaco. He was Subject 100. And he was going to survive.

* * *

He was ten when he met the twins. They met at a short recess during a time when the scientists were experimenting with the effects of social interaction upon the subjects. They were purple-skinned, white-haired, and joined at the hip. Their hands were always clasped, and they never stood more than a few inches apart at the shoulder. They looked inseparable, and it made 100’s chest ache for a reason he couldn’t name.

“Hi,” 100 said, “I’m subject 100.”

“I’m Subject 112,” the boy said.

“And I’m Subject 113,” the girl added. “He’s older by a minute.”

“But we don’t count that,” the boy said with a grin.

“We call this place Wonderland,” 113 told 100. “Cause it’s scary and full of weird people, and lots of weird things happen, like in the movie. Have you seen that movie? Alice in Wonderland?”

100 nodded. “I like that movie a lot,” he told her. “I saw it when I was living with my aunt.”

“I loved the Cheshire cat,” 112 said, mimicking the cat’s grin with an uncanny similarity. His teeth were sharp.

“My favorite was the caterpillar with the hookah,” 113 chimed in. “Whooo, aaaare, youuu,” she laughed.

“I liked the Queen of Hearts,” 100 said. “The way she wanted to cut off everyone’s head was so funny!”

“When did you come here?” 113 asked. “We’ve been here for two years.”

“Five years,” 100 told her. “My aunt sent me here.”

“They just found us,” 112 said. “Us and our little brother. He died a few days into our testing routine. It was very sad. We were so scared. But we’re happy now! This place isn’t so bad, once you get used to having to use numbers instead of names.”

“What were your names before they took you?” 100 asked.

“I was Edward,” 112 said.

“I was Lydia,” 113 said.

“I like those names. They’re way better than  _ Taako _ ,” 100 told them.

“That’s not so bad,” 113 replied. “It could’ve been worse.”

“Yeah,” 100 grinned. “Guess it could have.”

* * *

He was eleven when he saw 112 and 113 getting taken away on gurneys. Their stomachs were all cut open and their bodies were covered in blood. Their eyes were wide open. 100 saw them being wheeled down the hall and he screamed and screamed and  _ screamed _ because they were  _ dead _ and he was  _ alone. _

The scientists didn’t let him see the other subjects anymore. They said it was detrimental to their research.

100 didn’t argue.

* * *

He was eighteen when the Voice spoke to him outside the Dark Place.

_ Good morning, Taako, _ it said to him one morning when he woke up, startling him so badly he fell out of bed.

“Holy fuckin’--” he exclaimed, using words he’d heard the doctors say.

_ Sorry, _ the Voice said.  _ I should have warned you that that was going to happen. _

“How--?” 100 mumbled.

_ It’s a really long story. _

There was a long pause.

_ I miss you, _ the Voice said.

“We talk every day.”

_ I miss seeing you, _ the Voice corrected.  _ It’s been so long. _

“I don’t understand.”

_ No. I wouldn’t expect you to. _

Their conversation was interrupted by one of the security guards, who opened his door and slid in a plate of food.

_ I want to see you back in the kitchens by the time you’re 25, okay? _ the Voice said.  _ The food here is shit. _

“Got that right,” 100 said. “I’m gonna ask them if I can cook soon. I’ve learned all I can from the cooking channel.” He glanced at his brand-new TV with a grin.

_ Atta boy. I love you, Taako. _

* * *

He was twenty when he saw the room full of dead elves and dwarves and gnomes. It was a humbling situation. The scientists all told him how lucky he was, how special he was.

“You’re so lucky,” the doctors said. “You’ve passed all of our tests so far, and you’re continuing to surprise us. You’re our most valuable subject. You’re so special.”

_ I’m alive, _ 100 told himself, staring at the corpses in the room, the pile of bodies waiting to be burned.  _ I’m alive. I’m special. _


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the life of 100.  
> (100 trusts too much. The Voice has some words to say. Magnus rushes in.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EYYYYYY SO THIS CHAPTER WENT A BIT FARTHER THAN EXPECTED SO  
> Warnings for semisexual assault and abuse

_Schedule for Subject 100_

6:00 am: Wake up. Wait for escort to kitchen.

6:15 am: Arrive at kitchen. Cook breakfast under supervision.

6:30 am: Eat. Wait for escort to testing room.

6:45 am: Arrive at testing room.

7:00 am: Finish set-up, prepare for testing.

7:00-10:00 am: First round of testing for the day.

10:00 am-1:00 pm: Leisure and lunch.

1:00-3:00 pm: Second round of testing for the day.

3:00-4:00 pm: Rest period.

4:00-7:00 pm: Third round of testing for the day.

7:00-7:30 pm: Rest period.

7:30-10:30 pm: Final round of testing for the day.

10:30 pm-6:00 am: Sleep.

* * *

[December 13, 2016]

100 wakes up reluctantly, his eyes wanting to stay closed but his body too restless to relax into rest once more.

Yawning, he sits up in bed and stretches, feeling his spine crack as he reaches his bony arms up towards the ceiling. Flicking his eyes to the clock, he sees that it’s 5:30 am. Perfect, he has time to catch some _Say Yes to the Dress_ reruns. He grabs the remote from his white plastic bedside table and uses it to turn on the old boxy TV in the corner. Today’s bride seems to be another privileged daddy’s girl who just wants to make her father happy, but her dad hates every dress she tries on.

100 grins and settles back in bed to watch the program while he waits for his escort.

In a little over half an hour the security guard arrives, and 100 slips on his pair of black tennis shoes (which look dreadful with his pale grey hospital gown, but then again, everything does) so he can follow the guard to the kitchens.

When he pushes open the galley-style doors to the kitchen, he breathes a sigh of relief. This is his home territory. It feels nice. Cooking privileges are limited and, if he misbehaves, removed for indefinite periods of time. 100 loves cooking--reminds him of soft fuzzy memories from decades ago--so he doesn't misbehave.

“Want anything?” he asks the guard, who doesn’t respond. Typical.

So he cooks for himself, and it’s a damn good breakfast of the fluffiest pancakes ever made in the history of pancakes.

It doesn’t take long to cook or eat, but he takes his time. He has nearly a full hour until his first test of the day.

So he sits there, and he waits.

* * *

The Voice talks to 100 like always during his stay in the Dark Place. He knows better than to just _let it talk_ though, and he quickly masters trancing during their tests without the doctors knowing, so he keeps his neural activity on the down-low and he can tune out the Voice and its chatter.

He doesn’t need to hear his old name, or how much it “misses him”. He doesn’t need any of its urgings to “get out” and “escape”. It’s nice here. He can cook. The doctors like him well enough. He’s useful.

But some part of him is always tugged toward the Voice. And he doesn’t know why, but it feels soft. Warm. Good.

* * *

“Nothing new,” a tinny voice says, thin and barely there. 100’s eyes feel so, so heavy as he opens them. But this is nothing new--it's like this every time they test him. The voice gets clearer as he wakes up. “Ah, there you are.” The smiling face of Doctor Bain looks down at him pleasantly. “How are you feeling?”

“Like fuckin’ shit, doc,” 100 groans good-naturedly. “I need waffles, _stat._ ”

“Well, you have one hour until your next test session. Would you like us to escort you to the kitchens?”

“Oooh, yes _please,_ ” 100 says eagerly.

* * *

100 loves cooking. The sheer joy in the scents and the textures and the flavors which he can create and consume--that's what he loves, that's what he craves, and that's what he chases.

So what if he makes some salt turn to sugar in his hands sometimes, or pours some soy sauce into a measuring cup only for it to come out as chocolate syrup? Security doesn't notice, 100 never says anything, so he just does it.

And while he sits there after he's done cooking, eating his waffles with a ridiculous amount of whipped cream and chocolate syrup on top, he hears his "imaginary friend".

 _Taako,_ the Voice says, like it always does.

“That's not my name anymore but--sup?”

_Taako, you need to get out of this place._

“Yeah, don't think so, homie. I got everything I could want here.”

_They're hurting you._

“Small sacrifice. ‘S worth it, though.”

_Is it? Taako, remember when you first came here?_

“That was, like, decades ago. Things are better now. They let me cook!”

_But you have no freedom. Taako, when is the last time you went outside?_

100 thinks this through. Then, “Psh. Who needs the outdoors? I'm the rugged indoor type anyway.”

_You're a Sun Elf. You haven't seen the sun in almost fifty years, Taako. Don't you miss it?_

“Nah,” 100 says dismissively, “bastard’s always been too bright for me.”

_You're lying._

“Okay so maybe I am. Why do you care so much?”

_I love you, Taako._

“You--what? Nah, nah. Cause I'm pretty sure you're a girl, and 100 doesn't swing that way my friend.”

_No, no, Taako, I--_

Here the Voice cuts off, and though 100 calls for it--her?--again and again, he never gets a reply.

* * *

There's a very nice doctor here named Sazed. He's 100’s favorite. The way he looks at 100 like he's the most beautiful person he's ever seen makes the elf shiver with delight. He knows he shouldn't have these feelings about someone who experiments on him but at the same time, his warm hands are always a welcome presence, not to mention the mirthful glint in his dark brown eyes.

Today he steps into the kitchen and his eyes fall on 100. “Oh, hello,” he says with a smile, brown eyes shining. “I wasn't expecting to see you here.”

100 grins. “Me either. How’s it going, handsome?”

Sazed sits down across from him at the table and leans on his elbows. “Not too bad. We're getting closer to a breakthrough every day. How about yourself?”

100 shrugs and says, with his mouth full, “Meh. Tired, but I can't complain. I get a nice hour nap after next session.”

Sazed smiles. “Besides, fatigue is a side-effect of the tests, which you've been receiving for over forty years.”

100’s own smile widens, lips curling around protruding front teeth. “Very true, babe, very true.”

There’s an almost predatory glint in Sazed’s eyes as he leans farther across the table. “‘Babe', huh? Is that what you're trying to do now?”

100, in fact, isn't at all sure that that's what he's supposed to be saying, but he winks lazily and says, “Well, that's what they say to each other in the two T.V. shows you guys let me watch, so I figured I'd give it a go.”

The look Sazed gives him is positively sinful, dripping with something 100 doesn't have the words to describe. “Well, that was the right thing to say.” One broad, smooth hand reaches out to caress 100’s cheek, his ear, his hair, Sazed’s mouth curving in a smile full of desire.

100 sighs and leans into the touch--it's just like in the shows he watches in his free time. It's everything he wants--romance, drama, someone to touch him and hold him and make him feel wanted. Maybe he isn't just a lab rat. Maybe he's a person like them.

And then Sazed removes his hand and says, “Finish eating, 100, next round of testing is in fifteen minutes.” And he stands, and he leaves, and 100 is left alone and craving something he can't name.

* * *

Testing is weird. Some days they just hook a bunch of needles up to him and pull a lever, spiraling him into the Dark Place. Some days they immerse him in water and let him float there, weightless, for hours. Some days he’s left awake to squirm minutely as they push syringes into the crooks of his elbows and wait to see how they affect him. Some days, he’s just locked in a small, dark room filled with cameras and screens and microphones and he has to read off strand after strand of numbers as they cross the screens.

He doesn’t know what these tests do, nor why they’re running these tests, nor what results they are collecting--only that he is one of their main subjects, and it has done something to his head, to his body, to his blood.

100 knows that he is able to turn one thing into another thing because of the tests. He’s able to freeze things or burn things on a whim because of the tests. He’s able to hear a strange Voice in his head because of the tests.

He doesn’t tell any of the doctors about what he’s able to do. He doesn’t want to know what they’ll do to him if he tells them. Will they cut him open? Kill him? Harvest his organs? Use him as a weapon?

Maybe his thoughts are scarier than the tests. But, oh well--better safe than sorry.

Today’s testing sessions are the usual--diodes and needles and the lever and the Dark Place. It's the most painful and the most draining of the selection, and it's the one which he least looks forward to, especially because the Voice has been bossing him around lately.

He really hates the testing, but he remembers the last time he tried to fight the system here at the lab, and his ears and scalp twinge at the memory.

Yeah, not gonna fucking happen.

After he finishes his lunch, a security guard arrives to escort him back to the testing hallway. “C’mon,” the guy says. He’s really tall, taller than 100 (who is pretty tall, which he prides himself on), and very very buff. His arms and his pecs ripple under his black uniform shirt as he walks. Growing off the sides of his face is a pair of huge, bushy, auburn sideburns, which make 100 wrinkle up his nose. He looks very young.

“You’re new here,” 100 observes.

“Yeah,” the guard says. “I just got hired yesterday.”

“Normally the guards don’t talk to me.” 100 grins. “I like this change.”

“Oh, sorry,” the guard says hurriedly. 100 watches with amusement as he struggles to put on a stoic face.

“You’re fine, homie,” 100 assures him. “Nobody’s watchin’ you.” He saunters up beside him. “What’s your name, newbie?”

“Magnus,” the guard says. “And you’re Subject 100, right?”

“Yep, that’s me.” 100 grins. “I’m the special one.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m their favorite. Their prime subject. I’m _special._ ”

“Oh. Huh.” Magnus sounds awed, if a little lost. “So, what do they do here?”

100 peers through a window into a testing room. “That,” he says, pointing.

Magnus looks in, and his jaw drops. Obviously, he can see the elf-child screaming and writhing, hooked up to boxes and monitors and machines and computers. “And that’s--you do that every _day?_ ”

100 nods. “Yep. You get used to it after a few decades.”

Magnus turns to him, his eyes wide with a shock, and gasps, _“Decades?”_

100 shrugs. “It's whatever.”

“No! It’s not whatever, it’s--”

“Four pm, homie, I should be in my testing room by now.”

“Oh, _shit,_ sorry, I’m sorry, are they going to hurt you because of me?”

“Dunno. But they’ll be angrier the later I am.”

“Then come on, let’s go!” Magnus takes 100 by the arm and starts physically pulling him towards his room.

“Ow! Ow!” 100 yelps as he is dragged bodily down the hallway and into his testing room where a couple doctors--including Sazed--stand with their arms crossed.

“You’re two minutes late, 100,” Sazed says. “Were you distracting our new security officer?”

“No, course not, this idiot’s just incompetent,” 100 tells him breezily. “Walked so slowly. Wanted to peek in the windows on his way past.”

Another doctor--a woman this time--turns to look at Magnus with an icy gaze. “Is this true, Mr Burnsides?”

“No--I mean, yes, but--he talked to me first!”

“Really?” a third doctor says. He’s tall and thin and gaunt. His eyes glint as they turn to focus on 100. “Is this true?”

“I--” 100 gulps. “Maybe. What’s so bad about it?”

“What’s so bad about it?” the doctor mimics. “The problem is, you’re getting much too comfortable with your superiors. You are below us.”

“But I’m _special_ ,” 100 argues, sounding like an indignant child. “You guys said. I’m special.”

The gaunt doctor, in a few quick strides, is in front of 100, a bony hand raised as if he is about to strike. 100 flinches despite himself.

There is a tense moment where subject and the doctor stare at each other, a battle of wills, before 100 takes a step back. “Sorry,” he says.

The doctor’s posture immediately relaxes. “Make sure this doesn’t happen again, Subject 100.”

100 nods.

“Now that that’s over,” the woman says calmly, “I want you to climb up on the table like a good boy and let’s get this testing over with.”

100 complies without argument and soon he’s strapped down and the diodes are stuck to his skin.

“Alright,” Sazed says with a smile, “let’s get this show on the road.”

The last thing 100 sees before the pain overwhelms his senses is the face of Magnus, which is much more concerned than he has any right to be.

* * *

The Dark Place is like this: Nothingness.

There is no ground beneath his feet. There is no breeze to move his hair. There is no sound to fill his ears. There is nothing.

He knows he’s sitting, huddled on what he’s decided to call the Ground, and he knows that if he were in his body he’d be crying. Crying doesn’t exist when he has no corporeal form, so he sits there and he feels sad.

 _Taako,_ the Voice says suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Go away,” he tells it. “And don’t call me that.”

_Taako, you have to get out of here._

“You keep telling me that, and I keep telling you there’s no way out!”

_What if I told you I had an inside man on the job?_

“What… what do you mean?” 100 perks up a bit. He’s curious now.

 _You just met him and nearly wrecked your chances of getting out._ The Voice sounds amused. _It’s just like you, too. You always were more selfish._

“What. The fuck. You mean Magnus is supposed to be helping me escape?”

_Yeah. Duh. Why did you think he was asking so many questions?_

“Because he’s fucking new here?”

_I fucking told him to tell you he’d get you out._

“Maybe he got too into his acting role and forgot. But seriously--what the fuck? How is this even supposed to work?”

_Careful planning and a whole lot of bullshit you wouldn’t be interested in._

“Who are you?”

_You wouldn’t believe me if I told you._

“That sounds suspiciously like something that someone who isn’t real would say to me.”

The Voice laughs, and it sounds like his laugh. _Oh, Taako. I’m so proud of your paranoia, but you have to fuckin’ trust me right now or you’re gonna die in there._

“That sounds like a threat.”

_No, it’s a fact. Now I wish I could get in there and burn a whole bunch of shit and just swoop you out but the fact is that I can’t. So you’re gonna have to trust me, and trust Magnus, and trust yourself._

“What about Sazed?” 100 asks nervously.

 _DO NOT TRUST HIM,_ the Voice shrieks. _DO NOT TRUST HIM DO NOT TRUST HIM DO NOT TRUST HIM._

“Okay! Okay!” 100 shouts.

_He doesn’t love you, Taako. He’s doing this for information, not for love. He wants you to tell him everything._

“But if I tell him everything--”

_Then you die. They’ll kill you._

“How do you know all this?”

_They almost killed me._

“But you escaped?”

_Yes, with help._

“Who are you?” he asks again, because he needs to know.

_Call me Lulu._

And then the Dark Place fades, and he sees Sazed smiling down at him as he emerges from the fog in his mind. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Mmm,” Taako says. “This stuff is hell.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“Why not? It’s, it’s my body. It’s my brain.”

A few needles are ripped from his skin and he yelps.

“What?” Sazed says.

 _Don’t do this, Taako,_ Lulu warns.

100 ignores it.

“You heard me,” 100 tells him. “I’m--I’m a living, breathing being. I have, I have thoughts and feelings and emotions. I’m--I’m not just a lab rat, here for your viewing pleasure. Can’t I--can’t I have a day without tests? A life without chemicals? Clothes other than these dingy gowns?” 100 gestures agitatedly at himself. “Look at me! I’m fuckin--multidimensional!”

“100. You have no authority to make such demands. You have no authority to be so nonchalant with us. You have no place to act as an equal here,” Sazed says, right up in his face, his voice low and angry.

100 cringes back from Sazed, his soft and friendly demeanor gone, replaced by nothing but cold fury.

“Do you understand?” he asks, soft and dangerous.

Swallowing hard, 100 nods.

“I _said,_ do you _understand?”_ Sazed repeats, his voice loud and angry this time, one hand grabbing 100 by the jaw and the other yanking into his hair.

100 yelps. “Yes! Yes, I understand, fuck!”

Sazed doesn’t let go, instead turning to look at the woman behind him. “I don’t think he quite gets the picture.”

The woman smirks. “I don’t think so.”

Sazed’s gaze shifts back to 100, who flinches under the cruel smile. “I’ve heard,” he says, “that elven ears are so, _so_ sensitive.”

“No,” 100 says quietly, then louder, “no, please--”

“It is said,” Sazed continues, speaking over 100’s begging, “that any sensation--heat, cold, pleasure, pain--is amplified through the complex nervous system of an elf’s ears.” He grins at 100, who continues to plead with him. “Shall we test this rumor?”

100 is trembling, struggling against Sazed’s grip in his hair, while his other hand lets go of his chin only to grip hard onto 100’s left ear, twisting hard. “I’m sorry!” 100 screams, his arms flailing uselessly against Sazed’s body, his head twisting and turning to try to escape the pain only to make it worse. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again, please, please, just let go, just--!”

Sazed lets go, stepping back, and 100 staggers and almost falls, dizzy from the pain. His chest heaves.

 _Taako,_ the Voice says, tone worried, _are you okay?_

100 takes a few more shuddering breaths. “I’m,” he gasps. “I’m sorry.”

“Good,” Sazed says. He’s still smiling, but it contains a razor edge that promises more pain to come. “Get an attitude like that again and I’ll cut it off.”

100 blanches a little. “I understand,” he whispers.

The look on Sazed’s face instantly softens, and he stretches out a hand, fingers caressing 100’s cheek despite how he itches to flinch away. “You _are_ special,” he says. “You could be the key to _everything._ You just have to… know your place in all this.”

100 nods and, after a moment, he leans into Sazed’s touch.

The Voice is raging inside 100’s head, but he tunes it out. He’s known Sazed for a long time. And he doesn’t even know who this ‘Lulu’ is. He knows who to trust.

He trusts himself.

* * *

100 goes through all his remaining scheduled testing without a hitch. The only strange thing is that, after the ordeal with Sazed, the Voice hasn’t said a word. And, okay, he doesn’t trust it at all, but when bedtime rolls around and he still hasn’t heard a thing from it, he starts to get a little freaked out.

“Hey,” he says carefully to his empty room. “Are you, are you--you know. There?”

His mind is quiet. Something like static on a radio buzzes in his ears. He doesn’t get a response.

There’s a knock on the door that startles him out of a trance he’d unexpectedly slipped into. “100,” Sazed’s voice calls. “I’m coming in.”

“Okay,” 100 replies, even as the door opens. “Whatcha need?”

The look Sazed gives him is dark, and deep, and warm, and hot. “You,” he says, and then he’s in front of 100 and he’s got a hand on his chin and he’s tilting his face up and then their mouths are meeting and it’s… _good._ Better than good. 100 has _never_ felt like this before--so warm, so _hot._

Sazed’s hands are on his waist, his hips, his thighs, his chest, his shoulders, his neck, his hair--everywhere, searing and warm and calloused and soft and gentle and rough. 100 can’t get enough of his touches, and his mouth opens to make a sound, and Sazed’s mouth follows, their lips slotting together as the kiss goes from gentle to hungry, but then Sazed’s hands start to go under 100’s stupid hospital gown and 100 is suddenly not too comfortable with this, it reminds him of examinations and cold tables and blood and scalpels and pain, and 100’s hands press against Sazed’s chest urgently, trying to get him to stop.

He pants the word against Sazed’s mouth, pushing him, and then he pulls his head back and he shouts, “Stop,” and Sazed isn’t listening, he _isn’t listening,_ and 100 is starting to panic, because he doesn’t _want_ Sazed to touch his bare, scarred stomach, he doesn’t want his kisses and his bites and his sucks against his throat, and a sob tears itself from 100’s throat.

 _Taako!_ the Voice shouts, because _finally_ somebody shows up, but it’s just a voice, it can’t help him--

“Hey!” a loud voice shouts, and the door is thrown wide open, it bangs into the wall with a loud, clashing noise of metal against stone, and there stands the hulking silhouette of Magnus the security guard. “That’s against lab rules,” he says, and maybe the scowl looks a _little_ worried, but 100 is far, far too relieved and terrified to care.

“Help,” 100 pants.

And then he faints.

* * *

_Taako._

_Taako!_

_Taako, are you okay?_

_Taako, I need you to talk to me._

_Taako, please. I don’t know if you’re alright. Nobody’s talking about me._

_So alone…._

_So dark…._

_Taako, I don’t know what I’d do if you were dead._

_Taako, I need you to let me know you’re alive. You’re my heart. Please, I need you._

100’s consciousness stirs slightly. “Fuck off,” he tells the Voice. “Don’t wanna talk.”

_Oh. Oh, my gods. Oh, you’re okay._

_Get some rest, Taako. I love you._

* * *

100 wakes up to too-bright lights shining high above him. He’s lying in his bed, tucked under his blankets, and his clothing is back on. There’s someone sitting beside him.

When he turns his head, he sees Magnus.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he spits.

“I was worried. They let me stay,” the guard answers simply. He shrugs. “I can leave. If. You know. You want to be alone.”

“No,” 100 says far too quickly. Then, less earnestly, “You can stay. I… I don’t wanna be alone. Right now.”

“Right,” Magnus says.

They sit in silence. 100 resolutely does _not_ think about what happened before he passed out.

Then, _Taako._

“Fuck _off,_ ” 100 says.

“What?” Magnus stands up. “I can go, if you need.”

“No, no, not you,” 100 says irritably. He sighs.

 _I’m fine,_ he thinks, and he hopes it’ll work. _Or. I’ll be fine. Leave me alone._

 _Taako,_ the Voice says. _Go back to sleep. I’ll have Magnus deal with everything. I love you._

And 100 doesn’t waste a second--he mutters a “g’night” to Magnus and then he’s asleep, and his mind is full of half-formed memories of a friend he can’t quite remember.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 100 gets a haircut. A man in denim shows up. 100 isn't sure who to trust. Static pours from Magnus's mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens!  
> Sorry this took so long, school is kicking my butt :P

The next time 100 wakes up, he curls in on himself and he just starts  _ screaming. _ The reality of what happened the night before has finally sunken in, and he wraps his arms around his pillow, and he tucks his knees as close to his chest as they’ll go, and he shrieks into the pillow he clutches to his face, because even though Sazed’s hands made no visible marks he can feel the prints of his palms seared across his skin, great swaths of invisible burns made by the fires of his fingertips where they roamed unwanted.

And then a great giant hand presses oh so gently against the back of his tangled hair, smoothing it down, and there’s a soft voice whispering soothing words to him, shushing him, and telling him that he’s okay, he’s going to be okay, he’s gone now.

100 doesn’t expect it to work but--somehow, miraculously--it does. He can feel his breathing slowing to something more regular, his screams quieting to something of a dull, pained moan, the panic in his throat dying down, the burning tracks of violation cooling, as this presence grounds him.

When he finally feels like he can, he removes his arms from his head and looks up to see Magnus staring at him with palpable concern. “You… sorry. I didn’t ask before touching you.”

100 bites his lip, then confesses, “It’s fine. I didn’t… I didn’t care.”

Magnus still looks guilty. He brings a hand up to rub at the back of his thick neck, and his corded forearm brushes against the sideburns that sprout in copious amounts from his jawline.

100 sniffles. “Your sideburns are fuckin’ stupid,” he says.

Magnus grins a little. “Everyone tells me that--even my wife.”

“You’re  _ married? _ ”

“Hell yeah.” Magnus’s grin widens as he holds up his left hand, on which glimmers a thick gold band. “Her name’s Julia.” His smile goes all dopey and gross, and 100 briefly wishes to be under a scalpel. “She’s the most beautiful, badass woman in the whole wide world.”

“Sounds peachy. Wish I liked women,” 100 says loftily. He runs a hand through his hair and wrinkles his nose. Greasy. When’s the last time they let him shower? He feels gross.

The ghostly feeling of fingers caressing his flesh slides across his stomach and he shudders. He can’t help but think about how close a call it had been last night. What if Magnus hadn’t come in time? What would Sazed have done?

Swallowing back another lump of panic, he sits up slowly, crossing his arms. “What did you…” He hesitates, looking anywhere but at Magnus. “What did you do?” He glances at his clock. It’s 4 am. “Last night. What did you do?”

Magnus shifts uncomfortably--100 can hear him fidget. “Oh. Uh. I didn’t think you’d want to. You know. Talk about it.”

“Not really. I just wanna know what you did to him.”

“Well I, uh. Saw you lying there and I--I was really mad. I was really, really mad.” Magnus draws a breath. “I punched him, right in his dumb, smug face. I punched him pretty hard. I think I broke his jaw.” He huffs a strained laugh. “He broke lab rules. Sexual contact of any kind with the subjects is not allowed. Especially nonconsensual contact.” There’s a pause. “And it’s against my rules, too. Any sort of… nonconsensual contact. You shouldn’t do that to a person.”

100 nods slowly. The scars from the incisions when he was fifteen are still puckered and pink, and he wonders briefly if what the doctors do to him is nonconsensual contact. But--that’s different, he decides. This stuff is necessary. What  _ he  _ did was… bad. Horrible.

“What’s an elf gotta do to get a shower around here?” 100 asks, suddenly feeling filthier than he has in a long time. He wants to wash off the handprints on his stomach and chest.

“It’s… four in the morning. I don’t know if…”

“I’ll just get it on one of my breaks. Whatever.” 100 shrugs moodily and fidgets with his hair.

Magnus blinks uncertainly. “Are you sure? I can ask--”

“No--no. You don’t… don’t do that.” 100’s hands fidget with his hair.

Very quietly, he asks, “Is he still… here?”

“Nah,” Magnus says. He sounds proud. “Kicked him out last night. Nobody was that cut up about it.”

100’s shoulders slump and he breathes a sigh. “Thank the gods.”

The walkie-talkie on Magnus’s belt hisses into life and mutters something that 100 doesn’t care about. Magnus stands up. “Sorry, bud, I’ve gotta run.”

There’s a hesitation, something in the air, then Magnus leans down and says, quietly, “We’ll get you out of here, Taako. I promise.”

And then he’s gone, and 100 is left with questions he can’t answer and a film of static over some memory he can’t quite grasp.

* * *

100’s schedule is different today. He does not have a morning round of testing. Instead, a bunch of doctors come into his room and begin asking him questions. When did this interaction with Sazed become personal? When did it become intimate? Had they engaged in sexual intercourse before? Had Sazed ever assaulted him before? How was 100 feeling? What had Magnus done to stop Sazed? Did 100 have any personal relationship with Magnus? Did 100 have an intimate relationship with Magnus?

And then, after he’s answered their questions to the best of his ability, 100 is escorted to a small, clinical room and there are blood tests done and samples taken and they do a quick evaluation of his reflexes, and no, he isn’t sick, he isn’t injured, he’s mentally sound.

“Subject 100,” the tall, gaunt doctor says, striding into the room on his long, thin legs. His presence makes everyone go still, his crisp, steel-cold voice ringing and clear in the sudden silence. “I understand that you had an unpleasant experience with one of our researchers last night. I very much regret hearing that you had such an experience. I should have expected this sort of thing happening here--you are an adult now, and your elven beauty has not gone unnoticed.”

100 swallows and shifts uncomfortably. The doctor does not make this sound like a good thing.

“We must take necessary precautions, and I regret to say that the only way to do that is to cut off your hair.”

“But I--” 100 begins, clutching at his curls.

“Subject 100. We are trying to do what we can to keep you safe. We cannot do anything to change your face, unfortunately, but we can at least remove one thing about you that leaves people…  _ yearning. _ ” The gaunt doctor approaches him and bends his knees to be on eye-level with the elf. “You must trust me, 100. This is for your benefit as well as ours.”

100 hesitates before, out of the blue, the Voice speaks to him.  _ I can’t believe I’m saying this, Taako--but I think you should listen to him. _

“Alright,” 100 quavers. “Have at it.” He plasters on a smile and tries to show his old spirit that the doctors have always loved.

The doctor’s lips curl a little in response and he pats 100’s head. “Good.”

He exits the room, and 100 shudders.

_ Be brave, _ the Voice says.  _ We’re sending in the next one soon. We have an opening now. _

* * *

100 cries as they take a razor to his head. He’s always loved his hair; it’s made him feel beautiful, special, like he could be one of the normal people in his TV shows, like he wasn’t some lab rat in a cinderblock cell.

They hold up a mirror to let him see himself, and the cut isn’t perfect, it’s a little choppy, but at least he doesn’t have any weird dents in his head. The closeness of the shave makes his ears stick out awkwardly, and he flaps them in dismay. “I look like a really tall baby,” he mourns. “Look how big my ears look!”

“You’ll get used to it,” someone tells him, and then he is escorted to his room by none other than Magnus.

Magnus tries to make small talk, but 100 is too busy running his hands over his shaven-down head to pay much attention to him. It’s soft, at least, and fuzzy, and it feels nice on his palms. And he won’t have to spend so much time rinsing it when he has the opportunity to shower, or brushing it in the mornings, or pulling it back for testing or cooking.

Maybe a buzz cut has its perks.

“Uh,” Magnus says when they reach 100’s room, “the doctors told me to tell you that you’ll be doing your regularly scheduled testing after lunch. Are you gonna be okay on your own?”

100 nods. “Yeah, sure. 100’s good in here.” He smiles a little, and Magnus smiles back. He has a scar over his eye. 100 vaguely wonders where he got it.

“See ya,” Magnus says, and 100’s door closes.

As soon as he’s sure Magnus is gone, 100 plops himself down on his bed and says, “So, what did you mean, ‘the next one’?”

_ Magnus was just stage one. But now we’ve sent in someone much more influential.  _ The Voice sounds proud.  _ He’s our prime science officer. I trust him with my life. _

100 rolls his eyes. Gross; the Voice sounds in love. “O-kay. Can you describe him for me so I know who to look for?”

_ Two words: blue jeans. _

100 blinks. “Blue jeans? Is he seriously gonna be wearing  _ blue jeans _ in the lab? I mean. Not only is that a terrible fashion choice for the occasion, but-- _ denim? _ ”

The Voice sighs.  _ Taako, I know, it sounds stupid. It sounds ridiculous. But you can trust this man. I promise. _

“I’ll believe you when I see him,” 100 says, and falls back on his bed to stare at the ceiling and trance until lunch.

* * *

Lunch comes and goes in a haze. 100 cooks something, probably, or at least that's what he decides when he watches himself washing the dishes he must have used to cook some sort of quiche. He tastes something like mushroom that lingers on his tongue. Must’ve been a damn good quiche.

After he’s done cleaning up, he is escorted to the testing rooms. This time, instead of the typical awful machine he is usually hooked up to, the room he is taken to is the room where he must read strings of meaningless numbers and letters off the screen on the wall, diodes attached to his temples, everything dark except for the silvery light beaming from the white screen.

He settles himself on the chair in the room and waits to have the wires stuck to him, for the screen to turn on, and for the numbers to begin scrolling meaninglessly in front of his eyes.

It takes a little while; Sazed used to do all this, and the replacement must not be as used to the schedule yet. But finally, the door does swing open. “Hi,” a rather gravelly voice says. “I'm supposed to be a replacement for your old doctor. My name is Doctor Hallwinter.”

100 looks over at the man, and notes first the stubble on his face, then the bags under his eyes behind thick glasses, then his unkempt curly hair, and then, finally, his brain registers what’s so different about this guy.

“Blue jeans,” 100 whispers.

The man gives him a subtle wink, and then he carefully sticks the diodes to 100’s forehead. “Let's begin, Subject 100,” he says with a grin.

* * *

When he was 20, 100 discovered that as the numbers scrolled across the screen, he could correctly predict which number would come next before it appeared. However, he soon learned to conceal this too, when he’d overheard the doctors discussing his phenomenal brainpower and their plans to remove brain tissue if he kept up this stunning performance. But he let the numbers echo in a secure part of his mind and, until today, he'd never made a mistake.

100  _ tries _ to concentrate through the testing. He really does. But after the fifth time he fucks up a string of numbers because the Voice in his head keeps singing the praises of Doctor  _ Bluejeans _ , it gets really fucking hard. Obviously the Voice is absolutely smitten with the scientist, which is gross. She calls him by his first name:  _ Barry,  _ she sighs all too often.

Despite distraction, 100 makes it through the testing with minimal mistakes. His eyes ache from the stark screen by the time the testing is finished, and his throat is dry and raw from speaking. Doctor Hallwinter (100 still decides to call him Doctor Bluejeans) enters his room, pulls the diodes off, and hands him a glass of water, which 100 eagerly gulps down.

“I'm glad to see you're doing so well,” Bluejeans says pointedly. 100 blinks at him.“We all are pleased that you seem to be functioning well after the incident last night,” he adds, the same pointed  _ you get it? _ tone in his voice. 

100 blinks again. 

_ He means us, _ the Voice supplies.  _ Me and Magnus and the others working to get you out. _

“Of course, we'll be keeping close tabs on you,” Bluejeans continues, his words becoming further drenched in the pointedness of his tone. “We want to be sure you continue to do well.”

“That's nice, doc,” 100 says vaguely, really not wanting to let on that he understands. “Can I have my break now?”

Bluejeans sighs. “Yeah.”

“Excellent,” 100 says, standing and stretching his arms over his head until his back pops a few times. He gives Bluejeans a very subtle glance, eyes shifting from the doctor to the microphones and cameras located throughout the room. Bluejeans notices and gives him a barely perceptible nod.

“I’ll call a security guard to escort you to your break,” Bluejeans says, and says something into a walkie-talkie tucked into his belt. In almost no time, Magnus is at the door and waving 100 out.

A strong hand on 100’s shoulder, grip tight and palm a little sweaty, steers him through the hallways. When 100 looks up at Magnus’s face, he sees something like determination as his eyes seem to scan the halls. Finally, suddenly, Magnus stops. He has 100 in a corner and he bends down to be at eye level with 100 before speaking.

“Taako,” he says in a hoarse and hasty whisper, “did ### tell you about Barry?”

100 pauses. “Who?” he asks.

Magnus frowns. “###,” he iterates.

“Did--did who tell me about who?” 100 says, backing up until his shoulder blades are right up against the wall. “Don’t, uh, don’t know who you’re talking about.”

Magnus sighs. “###,” he repeats, but whatever he’s saying is lost in some sort of radio static. “Did she tell you about Barry? Doctor Hallwinter?”

100 eyes Magnus. “His name is  _ Barry? _ ”

Magnus rolls his eyes. “Yeah, his name is Barry. Doctor Hallwinter. Were you… did she warn you?”

“Who was supposed to warn me? Who’s ‘she’?” 100 tries to pick apart whatever had been hidden in static, but every time he tries his mind swims and his head hurts. “What are you talking about? Why am I--why am I hearing static?”

Magnus sighs and takes a step back. “She erased a lot to keep you safe,” he says. “She just erased a lot more than I thought she would.”

100 is still shaking his head, clutching his temples with trembling hands. “I don’t know who you’re talking about. I don’t fucking know what’s happening. Yeah, I was fucking told about Barold fucking Bluejeans or whatever his name was. This Voice in my head keeps fucking talking to me.”

Excited now, Magnus says, “A voice in your head? That’s great! That’s her! That’s ###! You know who that is? That’s your #### ######!”

100 wrenches himself away from Magnus and takes a few steps down the hallway. “I don’t--I don’t know what’s--what you’re saying. Why the  _ fuck _ am I hearing radio static? Why don’t I understand you? Who’s the Voice?”

Magnus’s voice quiets, placating. “Don’t worry, Taako. We’re here to help you out. The Voice isn’t gonna hurt you. I’m not gonna hurt you. And Barry’s gonna try his damnedest to keep you safe. We’re gonna get you out of here. Don’t worry. You can trust me.”

100 shakes his head, barely. “No, I can’t. I don’t fucking know who you are or why you care so much about me. Why the fuck do you want to get me out? I’m perfectly fine here. These people treat me well enough. I get to cook and watch  _ The Bachelor _ and read books and the tests aren’t all bad. I didn’t ask for a fucking, a weird-ass bodyguard or a nerdy fucker in denim, and I definitely didn’t ask for some sort of  _ split personality  _ or what have you in the form of a voice that calls me by the name I forgot.”

“That’s--that’s okay. It’s okay to think that,” Magnus says, but his voice doesn’t sound like he means it. “But--Taako, please. Please. You’ve gotta trust us. Things are just gonna get worse from here for you if you don’t.”

100 stares at Magnus. Magnus stares right back.

_ Please, Taako,  _ the Voice says, quiet, gentle, pleading.  _ Please. _

100 runs his hands over his fuzzy, shaved-off hair. “Okay. Fine. I’ll trust you. For now.” He doesn’t look at Magnus, but he holds out a stick-thin arm. “You can, uh. Escort me to the kitchen now.”

The warm, strong, calloused hand of Magnus grips his arm lightly, almost comfortingly, and 100 is escorted to the kitchen.

He doesn’t cook today.

* * *

The rest of 100’s testing goes by with little interruption. When he gets his remaining breaks, he sits in a chair in the kitchen and stares at the stove. He can’t motivate himself to get up.

The Voice even begs him to please, please, just eat something, but 100 just stares at the equipment and lets his hands tremble slightly in his lap. Sometimes he lets his fingers brush along his shorn scalp. But he can’t get Magnus’s words out of his head.

_ “You’ve gotta trust us. Things are just gonna get worse from here for you if you don’t.” _

100 doesn’t know what that means, but it sure as shit doesn’t sound good.

What if the Voice is right? What if this place is going to gut him and put his body parts in glass jars? What if he dies and gets tossed, meaningless, into that room full of corpses? What if he gets turned into some sort of--some sort of weapon?

100 shakes his head, just a little. The doctors aren’t like that. This is a good place. Everyone is learning here. It’s just like a school.

_ A school for humans who hate people like us, _ the Voice supplies softly as 100 sits on his bed that night.  _ This place was not meant to be a haven, Taako. This place was meant to kill us. _

An image of his body in the room of corpses flashes once more through his mind, before he says, “Yeah, right,” and falls backwards onto his bed to meditate the nightmares away.

* * *

We take it back a little, to the mid-afternoon. Somewhere outside Goldcliffe Labs, Sazed walks down a quiet side street, nursing a dislocated jaw, when suddenly, a magical hand reaches out and drags him into a dark, secluded alleyway. Someone is there, someone with pointed ears and glowing green eyes.

“Subject 100?” he gasps, afraid, as he sees the white, sharp-toothed grin that maliciously takes over the dark, shadowed face.

“Nah, but a close  _ fucking _ second,” a hauntingly similar voice snarls. “You’re the one who’s been hurting my brother in there, aren’t you?”

Sazed shakes his head, trying to free himself from the grip of the spell. “No! I never--I never meant to--please! I’ll do anything, I’ll--!”

The elf extends a hand, engulfed in flame, her eyes burning with unquelled rage. “You can  _ fucking die, _ ” she says.

A piercing scream alerts a nearby policeman, but when he arrives at the scene, all he sees is a small, smouldering pile of ashes and a human skull.


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 100 tries to remember. Magnus worries. A new doctor appears. 100 has a healthy fear of needles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmmm warning for needles! Updating on mobile from Spain lol  
> This one's a little shorter bc I'm lazy and typed it out on my phone while I'm in Spain bc I had Inspiration hope u enjoy

100 wakes, hazy and disoriented, to the face of Magnus staring down at him. “Morning, Taako,” he whispers with a grin.

“Don’t call me that,” 100 mumbles, sitting up. “Lemme put my shoes on, Mr Mountain, and we can get going.”

As he’s putting his shoes on, the Voice says,  _ Good morning, Taako. Did you sleep well? _

“No, I fucking didn’t,” he huffs.

_ That’s too bad. You know, we have actual pajamas out here. Flannel things. They’re really soft. You might sleep more comfortably in those. _

100 scowls. “Are you trying to lure me out by promising me flannel pajamas? Cause you’re gonna have to do better than that.”

_ King-sized beds. Big, warm comforters. Lots of pillows. _

That gets 100’s attention. “How… how many pillows, exactly, are we talking here, per se?”

_ Dozens. _ The Voice sounds very smug.

“...Dozens?”

_ Uh-huh. The people out here are pretty okay, too. I mean, I met my boyfriend out here. _

“Boyfriend? You mean that Barold Bluejeans guy?”

_ Excuse me, his name is Sildar Hallwinter. _

“I like Barold Bluejeans way better. I'm gonna keep calling him that.” 100 pauses. “So you're like… a real person. You have a physical--I mean, you’ve got a boyfriend. Right? So you're not just in my head?”

_ That's right, Taako. And we knew each other once, although I'm sure you don't remember me. _

“Nah, homie, I’ll bet I do.” Closing his eyes, 100 tries to remember. He tries to remember the name Lulu. He tries to remember his friends from preschool, decades ago. His friends from the temple when Auntie would take him.

And static pours into his brain, flooding his mind with deafening noise. He topples from the bed, a yelp escaping his mouth, covering his ears. “I--I can't--” He clutches at his head, trying to make it stop, make it stop, make it  _ stop-- _

“Hey!” Magnus calls, knocking on 100’s door and startling him out of the spiral of panic, “are you good in there?”

100 manages to squeak out something that sounds like “coming!”, and he takes deep breaths and runs his hands over and over his shorn scalp, trying to bring himself down from his panic.

The soothing gestures seem to work, because it's only probably another three or four minutes before he gets to his feet and leaves his room. “Let's--do this, yeah?”

Magnus gives him a strange look. 100 doesn't understand the emotion written on his face. It's never been directed at him before. “Let’s do this,” he agrees, his voice reflecting that same weird, mildly disconcerting emotion. He puts his huge hand gently on 100’s shoulder and steers him through the hall, down the stairs, and into today’s testing room.

_ Ah, so it's going to be one of those days,  _ he thinks vaguely, staring at the trays and trays and trays of syringes. His elbows and upper arms and his thighs already sting in sympathy. He climbs up onto the stainless steel table without prompting and allows himself to be strapped down. Then he takes a deep breath and waits.

A few moments later, Barry fucking Bluejeans steps into the room, followed by a squat, fat woman with a large, round, flushed face and too much lipstick on her pursed lips. Her hair is done in an ugly braid; wisps of loose hair stick to her foundation-caked cheeks and forehead. “Hello, Subject 100,” the woman simpers, her words dripping with sugar. Her blue eyeshadow looks awful, too bright and too much. And how did she manage to get away with a pink lab coat? “My name is Doctor Waters. Doctor Hallwinter and myself are now assigned to you.” Waters clutches at her clipboard, which is pink, glittery, and covered with garishly cute kitten stickers. Her stubby fingers, attached to equally pudgy hands, end in long, bright pink acrylic nails. 100 hates her a lot.

“Doctor Hallwinter” does not look particularly pleased by this turn of events either. His grimace says it all. “Subject 100,” he says in his rough voice, his eyes gentle, “you will be safe in our care.” With his glance at Waters he convinces 100 immediately that no, he is not safe. 100 shudders.

_ I want to punch her in the fucking face,  _ the Voice says.

“Alright,” the woman gushes, setting down her clipboard on one of the tables holding trays of syringes, “let's begin, hmm?” Her bright pink talons latch onto a syringe and she trots over to him, her heels making ridiculous little  _ clip-clop-clip-clop _ sounds as she rounds the corner of the table and comes to a halt by his shoulder. Muttering under her breath a load of scientific jargon 100 can't understand, she takes the syringe and injects a pale orange liquid into the flesh of his upper arm.

100 squirms as the needle sinks into his arm, and then makes a barely-stifled noise of discomfort as the liquid burns through his veins. Doctor Hallwinter frowns but says nothing, instead picking up another syringe and approaching his other arm, carefully poking the needle through his skin.

The pain is dreadful, this time, and 100 tilts his head back, his mouth open to emit a low, drawn-out moan of pain. Barry whispers something that might be an apology and picks up another needle at the same time that Waters injects another chemical into 100’s arm and the moan pitches itself at about shriek level. It  _ hurts it hurts it hurts and it’s so much all at once _ and then there's another needle from Barry and he  _ screams. _

“Sorry,” Barry says, louder, “I'm sorry, stop moving or it'll hurt worse.”

100 tries his best to still his limbs, trembling, chest heaving as his screams die to occasional whimpers as the pain fades. Waters pokes another needle into his arm, and Barry follows suit, and the resulting jolt of agony makes his back arch off the table, his mouth open wide in an almost comical mask of pain. He is knocked so breathless that he can't even manage a whimper, every muscle locked up and spasming, every nerve screaming for mercy, and then--suddenly--there is peace.

With a gasp his body falls back against the table and he manages a sob, tears spilling over. “Shh, it's good, you're doing well,” Barry soothes, picking up another horrible, terrible syringe. Slowly, carefully, he inserts the needle into the vein in 100’s elbow, muttering to him, trying to keep him grounded. And 100 is… grateful. It still hurts, there's no way to stop that. He still emits desperate little whimpers. But it's not unbearable.

By the time half of the syringes are gone, 100 has been reduced to a sobbing mess, just like every other time they've done these tests. But this time, instead of the cold gaze of the gaunt doctor or (gods forbid) Sazed, he sees the gentle, round, apologetic face of Barry Bluejeans, giving him encouraging words or smiles and patting his arm after a particularly rough injection.

Waters shows him no such sympathy, no matter how sweet her voice is. She jabs needles deep into his veins, nails digging into him, injection after injection after injection, and he cries and he cries and she just doesn't stop.

“Please,” he chokes ninety minutes in, “please.”

“Hang in there,” Barry says, and his eyes are so very, very sad. “You're almost done.”

100 is beyond words two and a half hours in, his pleas reduced to broken whimpers. “You're doing so well, bud,” Barry assures him, and inserts another syringe into his thigh. 100 can only manage a high, quiet sound.

_ Good job, babe, _ the Voice assures him, over and over.  _ You're doing good. Just breathe. _

By the time 100’s break comes around, Magnus has to carry him from the room. He falls asleep almost instantly in the man's strong arms as he is carried back to his room.

He wakes up in his bed, covered with a blanket, warm and aching but rested. There are a few band-aids on the punctures wounds left behind from the needles. They are all Spider-Man themed.

* * *

 

He goes back and does it again. He has to; he has no choice.

Magnus knocks on his door when his break is finished. “Ta--100,” he says, cautious, before swiping his key card and entering the room. “I--I'm sorry, you have to go back.”

100 shrugs. “Not, uh, not your fault. You're just doing your job.”

“My  _ job _ is to get you out safe,” Magnus replies, hushed. “I don't--you getting hurt is the  _ last  _ thing we want.” His eyes are full of pain and guilt. “100, I--I could  _ hear _ you screaming.”

100 grimaces. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. It's hard to hold it in sometimes. I'm not usually that loud. Their tests are, um. Getting more intense. Lately.”

Magnus shakes his head. “Shit, Taako, I--we can't--we don't have enough  _ time. _ ”

“Well if you wanted me outta here so bad you shoulda planned your time better.” 100 shrugs again, disturbingly apathetic, and swings his legs over the side of the bed, reaching down to grab his shoes.

Magnus wants to shake him. He wants to shout and make him understand, wants him to use his name, wants him to remember. He wants to scream and cry and mourn over the deaths of all those before him. He wants to pick him up and whisk him away from here.

He wants to give him a hug.

So he does.

100 yelps and squawks and drops the shoe he’s holding, flailing his arms against the brick wall that is Magnus. “What the--let go of--I don't--!”

Magnus lets go and steps back, sheepish. “Sorry.”

100 stares at him, his thin chest heaving. “Keep your fucking hands off of me,” he says, and puts his shoes on with shaking hands.

_ He's just trying to help you, _ the Voice says.  _ Hugs usually help me. He didn't know any better. _

Magnus waits, now nervous and awkward, before escorting 100 back to that awful room. He tries to ignore how he limps when he walks, the little flinches on his face when he moves wrong. The way he tosses his head to sweep back hair that isn't there anymore. The way his hands twitch and shake and spasm.

“Taako,” Magnus says quietly.

“Don't say that name.”

“But it's  _ your _ name.”

“Not anymore.”

“But--”

“Shut  _ up,” _ he spits, and Magnus stops talking.

_ Be kind, Taako. _

“No.”

100 pushes open the door to the testing room by himself and pulls himself onto the stainless steel table. His face is carefully blank. Magnus watches his hands continue to shake and spasm. He wonders if it's a side effect.

When Magnus leaves, Barry arrives, followed by the deceptively cheery Doctor Waters. They waste no time in returning to their task, and soon 100’s arms are dotted with little spots of red as he writhes and shudders on the table.

Waters inserts a particularly vicious liquid into one of his veins and his mouth opens to let out a high, thin whine as his shoulder goes numb before exploding in a starburst of pain. Almost instantly, though, Barry has grasped his hand and is speaking to him, telling him the effects will stop soon, it's gonna be okay, and there's that emotion in his voice that 100 doesn't understand, the one that Magnus used earlier. He doesn't know the word for it.

The pain comes and comes and comes and what is actually minutes drags by like hours. 100 fades in and out of consciousness, his senses overwhelmed by fire and fear and the hot pink talons of the monstrous woman. Eventually though, the pain lessens to the point where he is awake enough to watch Barry treat him gently, carefully, injecting another dose of horror into his system.

The liquid he injects is black and dense and it seems to wriggle into his veins, settling deep inside his body like a parasite, gnawing away at him with invisible acidic teeth. He wriggles, uncomfortable, squeezing his eyes shut, flexing his fingers and toes--and then it's over. And he exhales, and he opens his eyes, and he prepares.

The needle that Waters sticks in his arm is, apparently, the wrong one.

Because as the chemicals circulate through his body, he begins to seize. Convulsions wrack his body and he splutters, gurgles, saliva foaming on his lips, his muscles tightening and spasming and his brain jumbled, scrambled, screaming  _ wrong, wrong, wrong,  _ and Barry shouting something distantly, distantly, distantly, and Waters injecting another needle that  _ burns, burns, burns, _ and then,

_ Taako? Taako! Are you alright? What's going-- _

Nothing.

* * *

 

“I'm not--I'm not getting anything from him!”

“Are you sure? Try again.”

“Taako? Ta--Taako, wake up!”

Silence.

“Taako?” No. No, please. Please, please, please.

“I'm sure he--I'm sure he's fine.”

“I can't hear him, Creesh.”

“He'll be alright, Lu. We've sent Merle in to deal with things. I'll notify him immediately.”

“You're… you're sure he's not dead?”

A dark hand ruffles short blonde hair. “I'm sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woop woop it's been forever huh?!?!?!??! Don't worry he's not dead
> 
>  
> 
> Yet


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 100 makes a new friend. Merle answers some questions. Secrets are told. And we see another side of our story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. I didn't have enough spoons for angst so this chapter will not make you sad. Anyway, enjoy!

_ When 100 was fifteen, he was cut open. The doctors said they wanted to see what made him tick. They told him it was a typical procedure. Everything was going to be fine. _

_ Everything wasn't fine. _

_ Something went wrong, and the anaesthetic wore off, and 100 woke up to machines beeping and men in scrubs yelling and blood pouring from his body and then he saw stars and it went black. The next time he woke up he was in his room, stitches and sutures fresh in his flesh, an IV in his arm and bandages around his middle. _

_ “Don't move,” he was told. So he didn't. _

_ They didn't do tests on him for weeks. _

* * *

 

When 100 opens his eyes, he's not in his bed. He's in a much softer, slightly larger bed, covered by white sheets, an IV stuck into his left elbow, golden light spilling across the blankets like liquid. Golden light, not stark white. Sunlight.

He turns his head and is met with an image he hasn't seen in 50 years: outside. He can see it all, the city of Goldcliffe, the blue sky, the white clouds, the distant mountains, the  _ trees.  _ All of it is visible through a picture window, framed with green curtains, and surrounded by a plethora of potted plants. Tears gather in his eyes as he stares at the beauty of a landscape he'd forgotten he knew.

A movement catches his eye and he tears his gaze away long enough to take a look at a desk, where there sits a short, grey-haired man. He tries to speak. “Ex, ex, ex, ex--” he says. “Ex, excuse me.” His voice is thin and raw.

The man turns. He's a dwarf, 100 notices. One of his arms is fake. “Ah, you're awake,” he comments with a gentle smile. His voice is a little crunchy, a little earthy. 100 likes it. “How’re ya feeling, kid?”

“I'm, I'm, I'm.” 100 growls in frustration. “I'm fi, fine.”

The dwarf laughs. “Excellent self-diagnoses. Completely wrong, but good try.”

_ Taako? Taako? Are you alright? Please answer me. _

“I'm, I'm, I'm, I'm fine,” he repeats, stubborn.

_ Oh, thank all the gods. I thought you were….  _

“You're supposed to be dead, kid,” the dwarf says, getting up from the desk. “Lucky for you, I got some healing magic in you and set you right.” He pauses. “Well. Mostly right.”

“What, what, what's,” 100 tries. “Why--why am I talk, talk, talking like this?”

“Seizure, kid. Does funny things to your brain.”

100’s fingers clutch the sheets. He's vaguely aware that his hands are shaking. “But, but, but, I can't, can't, can't even make a sentence right!”

The dwarf shrugs. “I can't fix that. Goes beyond my capabilities.”

100 stifles a sob and turns onto his side.  _ Useless, _ he thinks.  _ Stupid. Broken. _

_ Hey, _ the Voice cuts in.  _ Stop that. _

_ They're not gonna want me anymore. Can't even talk right. Just gonna rip my guts out like the others. Burn me up. _

_ Stop that! _

_ Broken. Useless. Ruined. _

_ Taako, stop! _ the Voice shouts. Quieter, it continues,  _ You’re not broken. They're not gonna kill you for a stutter. You're perfect and beautiful and we're gonna get you out of here. This guy, babe, this dwarf? You've gotta trust him. He's one of us, and he’s gonna help you. Let him. Okay? _

Silence.

100 sniffles. “So, uh. What--what--what's with your whole, um, your whole plant fetish, m-m-man?”

The dwarf laughs. “Oh, I worship Pan. It's like keeping my god close to me in this barren desert of white tiles.” He pauses. “You, uh, doing okay, kid?”

“Not a kid.”

“Okay, then, what should I call you?”

100 opens his mouth. Closes it. Considers.

“Ta, Ta, Ta.”

“Taako,” the dwarf murmurs. “Yeah?”

100 nods. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” the dwarf says, and he sounds like he's smiling. “My name is Merle. You’ll be staying here for today and tomorrow. The only thing you'll be doing in here is healing, so don't worry about having to go through any tests.”

“Is Doc, Doc, Doctor Wat-Waters gonna come?”

Merle shakes his head. “No way in hell that beast of a woman is coming in my room.”

A wave of relief washes over 100. “Bar-Bar-Bar-Barry?”

“Do you want him to?”

“Yeah.”

“Then, well, sure. Barry can come visit you.”

“Mag, Mag, Mag, Magnus, too,” 100 demands, stubborn.

“Yeah, when he has time. You like these guys, don't you?” It's a rhetorical question. 100 nods anyway.

Merle is probably still smiling. “Good. That's good. And you trust ‘em, yeah?”

100 hesitates, then nods again. “Ma-Ma-Ma-Magnus hasn't tried to hur-hur-hurt me yet. And Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba-Barry is… Lulu’s boyfriend. And he’s ni-ni-nice to me.”

_ Atta boy,  _ the Voice says. There's pride in its tone.

100 turns over to face the dwarf. “Do-do-do you… do you kno-know them? Lulu?”

Merle’s smile widens. “Yeah. Good kid.”

100 eyes him. “Is-is-is Lulu the one dir-directing this wh-whole thing?”

Glancing around, Merle leans in and says quietly, his expression guarded, “No offense, kiddo, but you shouldn't talk about that shit so openly.” After a pause, he adds, “But no, she’s not. There’s… somebody else in charge.”

“Who?” 100 asks. “Do, do, do I kno-know them? Are, are they he-he-here now?”

“No, she’s very… reclusive. But she, uh, has a certain special interest in you.”

“Why-why-why me?”

“Because of… what do you call her… Lulu.”

100 knows that he should be putting something together. There are two puzzle pieces that should fit, but he can’t… piece any information together. If he tries, he gets static. “Wh-what does Lulu ha-have to do with m-m-me?” he asks.

“I can’t explain it,” Merle says, frustration clear on his face. “I’d tell you if I could.”

“Is, is, is it… because of the st-static?”

Merle nods. “There are… measures we had to take to keep Lulu safe. We didn’t, uh. We didn’t know you existed until years later. Or that you were even connected to her, in any way, that these measures would affect you. But it’s, um, for the best, that we keep the static in place, until you’re safe, too.”

100 nods. “O-o-okay.”

Merle stands and reaches out a thick hand to gently ruffle 100’s close-cropped hair, smiling. “You’ll understand soon. Are you thirsty?” he asks.

“Ye-ye-yes.” 100 nods. 

Merle goes to his desk, picks up a pitcher of water, and pours the liquid into a glass, which 100 accepts gratefully. “There ya go.” The doctor gives him another smile and walks towards the huge window and the plants.

100 looks past him and out the window, once again becoming enraptured by the view beyond. “Wha-what-what are those mountains called?”

“Those are the Ozarks,” Merle says, his hands stroking down the leaf of a fern. “Aren’t they something?

“I remember hiking the Ozarks, several years ago. It was very exciting. I didn’t hike across all of them, that would take a long time, but I did take a long trip across the Ozark Plateau. It was beautiful.” Merle’s voice is soft and a little entranced. “Alone out there in the wilderness on top of mountains, with nothing around you but the trees and the birds…” The plant under his fingers suddenly grows several inches.

“Um, um, um, Mer-Merle?” 100 says, nervous. “Did you j-just make that plant grow?”

Merle turns and winks. “Don't tell, but healing magic isn't the only thing I can do.”

100’s eyes widen and he whispers, “Y-y-you can do magic, too?”

Merle’s grin widens. “You saw it yourself.” His expression softens, just barely, just enough to let his gentle kindness show through. “You got anything special, kid?”

100 falters, just for a moment. Should he demonstrate his abilities, and risk having his powers found out? His eyes flicker over Merle’s face. His hazel eyes are wide and warm. 100 makes a decision. “Wa-wa-watch this,” he says, and concentrates his energy on the water in his glass. At first it seems like it isn’t going to work. But then he feels a tendril of warm, familiar power curling in his fingertips, and he focuses that energy until, with a jolt of excitement speeding up his pulse, he watches the water in the glass turn golden-brown and viscous. “Ma-ma-maple syrup,” he announces proudly, holding out the glass for Merle to see.

_ Nice work, Taako! That was amazing! _ the Voice cheers. The praise strengthens his smile.

Taking the glass from him, Merle inspects the contents. “How did you change the water without changing the glass?” he asks, not bothering to hide the wonder in his tone.

100 shrugs. “I, I, I just con-concentrated.”

“Where'd you get the energy for that? You don't use divine magic. You weren't near the plants.”

100 shrugs again. “There, there, the-there was just ma-magic in me. And I ju-ju-just kinda u-used it.”

“Magic  _ in  _ you?”

“Ye-yeah. It’s ju-just kinda th-th-there.”

“I’ve never heard of this before.”

“I don’t, don’t, I don’t fucking know how it wor-wor-works,” 100 snaps. All this questioning and asking and curiosity is making him testy. “All I kno-kno-know is there’s this fu-fucking warm feeling and then it co-comes out through my hands.”

Merle laughs. “You sound just like your ###### sometimes.”

At the sound of the static, 100 shrinks back a little on the bed, any remaining exuberance draining away. “M… my what?”

Merle’s expression drops immediately into a scowl. “Fuckin’ ########,” he curses.

“I don’t, I don’t know what you’re saying.” 100’s voice is small and scared. “What are you, what are you saying? Why ca-ca-can’t you talk to me?”

Kicking his chair, Merle curses again before picking up a phone sitting on his desk and dialing a number. “Lucretia,” he says in a quiet, angry voice. “You didn’t tell me you’d erased  _ this _ much.”

A low, feminine voice crackles through the phone, but 100 can’t understand any of it.

“ _ Fuck _ the plans, I didn’t know you’d taken away everything! You’ve gotta give something back.”

Another stream of words from the woman. 100 can pick out the word “soon”.

“You fuckin’ better,” Merle warns, and hangs up.

100 is trembling where he sits, his mind churning but no answers coming up. He knows this whole situation has something to do with him, he knows he’s the center of all of this, but he doesn’t know how anything fits together. Everytime he thinks too hard, he gets static, static, static, and his head is starting to hurt, and he’s so confused, and so scared. He wishes he could just figure  _ something _ out. He wishes he could understand.

Merle seems to sense 100’s panic and approaches his bed. “You’re tired,” he declares, and lays a hand on 100’s temple.

100 only realizes Merle has used a spell on him to put him to sleep when he’s under.

_ Sleep, Taako, _ Lulu tells him. Their voice is calming.  _ You will understand soon. _

* * *

 

“He’s alive,” Lup sobs. “He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s  _ alive. _ ” She turns in her chair, throws her arms around Lucretia, and holds her tight. “He’s safe, he’s okay, everything’s okay.”

“I know,” Lucretia says. She’s holding Lup just as tightly. “I know, I told you everything would be alright. Everything is going according to plan. You’ll get to see him soon, I promise.”

“Thank you,” Lup whispers. “Thank you.”

A door is flung open and in rushes Magnus. “Guys, holy  _ fuck, _ ” he shouts. “I can’t believe he’s still alive! I was holding him and I…” He takes a deep breath. “I ran as fast as I could. Merle cursed me out when I brought him in. I think that means he’s glad Taako’s okay.”

“Of course he’s glad,” Lucretia says indignantly. “We’re all glad.” She looks down at Lup, who gives her a little grin. “Taako is very lucky we were there to help him today. But Magnus--you really should get back to the lab. They're going to notice you keep leaving if you're not careful.”

“Okay. I just thought you'd like to be filled in.” Magnus grins at them. “Tell Julia I said hi and I'll see her tonight.” He punctuates his sentence with a highly suggestive wink.

“Gross!” Lup yells, jumping up and shoving him out the door, but not without having to endure an obscene comment from him about “her and Lucretia last night”.

The room is full of laughter, and the air is light and positive, and it seems like, in this moment, everything is going to be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to those who don't like Blupcretia, but Lup has two hands!!!


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see where Lup fits into this, learn the origins of the Bureau, and meet some beloved characters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEAH BOY IT'S LUP TIME

Lup was taken at three years old. She was taken when she was still called something else, a name she does not bother to remember. She was taken from her grandfather’s house; her distant memories can recall him crying, a slip of paper in his hand that he clutched desperately. His shouts of her old name were drowned out by the screams of her brother, who cried and cried as she was carried away in the arms of a faceless man in a white coat.

She only has fleeting memories of the things they did to her in there. Most of the recollections have been swallowed by now by the terrible, constricting blackness of the Dark Room. She remembers being alone, hungry, so thirsty she drank out of the stinking puddles on the cold floor. She remembers being forgotten about, left to die.

She remembers being found.

The door was flung open and for the first time in… how long had she been in there? For the first time in what felt like an eternity she saw light, bright and stark and terribly blinding. And she had screamed and covered her face as the light poured around a dark figure, soft and rounded. She heard measured footsteps and felt herself lifted into gentle but strong arms as she was carried from that place and out into a world of light and sound and feelings and life.

She came to learn that her savior’s name was Paloma, who was a very kind and most probably immortal old woman, who brought her to a house in a town called Refuge, just outside the city of Goldcliffe. “This is my house,” Paloma told her as they stepped through the door. “You’ll have everything you need here.”

The first thing Paloma gave to Lup was a small cup of a strange syrupy liquid that was tapped from a weird glowing tank in her parlor. As soon as Lup drank it, she could see that there was a weird jellyfish-type creature floating in the water. It glowed faintly at her.

“This is the Voidfish,” Paloma explained. “It makes people forget things, unless they’ve drunk from its tank. You’ll remember things, even if others forget them.” And then Paloma took out a sheet of paper, wrote ‘ _ Lup’ _ and her subject number (86) on it, and tossed it into the tank. “Those bad people at the Lab won’t remember you now,” Paloma said, and smiled at her.

It wasn’t until later on, when a little voice kept talking in her head, that Lup remembered that she’d had a twin brother.

She talked to him sometimes. And then she talked to him a lot. And then, she talked to him every day. Paloma encouraged their interactions, but she told Lup, “Never tell him your name. Never tell him who you are. You will be safer that way, and he will, too.”

After a couple of years in rehabilitation with Paloma, Lup was moved out--quite suddenly, really. Paloma had told her it was an “emergency situation”. So she was taken from Paloma’s house and left in the care of a kindly dwarf named Merle Highchurch.

Merle was nice. His house was full of plants. His voice was husky and warm. His hazel eyes were kind. He was a little gruff, but not uncaring; never uncaring. He liked to tell jokes and play board games.

And then the Bureau of Balance formed.

Lup was thirteen when it began. Merle had a friend over, a gnome named Davenport who had escaped from the Lab several years ago, who informed Merle that he was starting a bureau that would put an end to the suffering of magic users. Merle jumped at the opportunity, and soon the pair, plus Paloma and the Refuge sheriff Roswell, were working together on a small group that could rescue the lab’s subjects and destroy the lab once and for all.

The voice in her head--her brother, her twin, her  _ heart _ \--grew older with her. But instead of growing up with love and empathy and trust her brother turned more and more cynical, mechanical, lifeless. And it scared Lup, it scared her  _ so much. _

“Taako,” she told him every day. “Taako, I love you.  _ I love you. _ ”

His only reply? “That’s not my name anymore.”

She tried to tell him, once. Who she was. Where she was. She begged him to please,  _ please _ remember her. But he couldn’t. Lup, everything she was, everything Taako knew her as, had been erased.

One evening, after trying and  _ trying _ to talk to Taako, begging and pleading with him to just  _ listen to her,  _ just let her speak to him, please, and feeling him put up walls between their psychic communication, Lup flew into something of a rage.

It wasn’t until her clenched hands set the carpet on fire that Merle stepped in and gently, gently calmed her. “Shhh,” he said, “I know. I know how hard it is.”

“No you don’t,” she cried into his chest--but the fires died and the rage was quenched and Lup was just a little girl again, lonely and afraid.

Years passed, decades. And then the Bureau of Balance finally, finally grew. It became more than just hushed whispers passed through Refuge, more than secret phone calls and coded letters. The Bureau of Balance gained a headquarters, and it gained a leader.

Lup was forty-three years old and had been working to help the Bureau alongside Merle and Davenport for about six years when Lucretia was appointed the leader of the Bureau. Lucretia was twenty. She was tall and slim and dark, with long, stark-white hair and piercing eyes. Lup was muscular and tough and absolutely  _ smitten _ with her. And she was also incredibly attracted to the scientific officer appointed along with Lucretia.

Sildar Hallwinter was not a conventionally attractive man. He was short and a little chubby and had more grey hair than most humans did, and his face had lines on it, and his glasses were square and thick, and he  _ always _ wore denim pants. (As soon as she noticed this detail Lup dubbed him “Barry Bluejeans”, and the nickname stuck.) But the first day Lup worked with him, saw his shy little smile, heard him laugh at one of her dumb jokes, and answered any and all of his questions about Taako (her brother her twin her heart), she felt her heart lurch toward him, dragged by a sort of magnetic force.

And then she pined for five years.

During those five years she worked tirelessly with Barry and with Lucretia to come up with a game plan in order to rescue her brother. And then the game plan grew. And it grew. And it grew.

And suddenly they were standing in front of an intricate flow chart, detailing the exact way to rescue not just Taako but all of the subjects, and then destroy the Lab--burn it and all of its mad scientists to the ground.

As soon as Lup realized what they’d done, she grabbed Barry’s shirt collar in her hands and dragged him forward and kissed him soundly, and then turned and did the same thing to Lucretia, and they laughed breathlessly together, shocked and amazed and overjoyed and--well, that was that.

Shortly after that, Lucretia employed Magnus Burnsides, a burly, rough-and-tumble woodcarver, to work as an insider at the Lab. He was to be a security officer, working to protect Subject 100 (Taako, her brother, her twin, her heart).

And he was going to be Taako’s ticket straight out of there.

The plan was set. They were ready. All they had to do was wait for the right moment.

And the moment came.

Magnus rushed in.

Lup’s fingers clenched as she watched him step through the gate and into the Lab.

The game was afoot.


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John visits 100. 100 makes a decision that affects the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY PLEASE READ THE UPDATED TAGS.
> 
> I put author's notes before and after the graphic stuff so skip from one to the other if you don't want to read graphic stuff.

Doctor John Ocras scans slowly, carefully across the various notes and charts from the file folder marked “100”. Holding a blue pen between thin fingers, he makes a few marks, here and there, in or beside the boxes of spreadsheets, underneath the jagged lines of charts and readings, beside some notes jotted on a sheet of notebook paper. He sits back, blinking black eyes in sunken sockets above jutting cheekbones. Runs a skeletal hand through his hair, black striped with white and grey.

Doctor John Walter Ocras, Jr., was once handsome. He used to be the picture of good looks forty years ago when he was young, when he worked under his father here at the Lab. A photograph sitting on his desk proves this, displaying his younger self, still pale but stronger, younger, less gaunt, his black hair thick and full and dark, standing beside a man who is the mirror image of his present self: his father. John likes to think that he still has retained some of his good looks but really, he looks like the embodiment of starvation. Of hunger.

John _is_ hungry. He is driven by desire, a desire he inherited from his father, a desire passed down for four generations. John is human, and he desires to strip the magic from the world, strip the magical races down to mere human mortality, and harness the magical energy for a project his great-grandfather created seventy-five years ago.

John makes a few more marks on a page, and then he pulls out another paper. He takes a minute to read it.

Then, he sits back. And he steeples his fingers in front of his thin nose. And he smiles.

* * *

 

100 finds himself within the Dark Place. It’s a little better constructed--he can just make out four walls, a floor, and a ceiling, all pitch black material. Sitting near him, their back to him, is a figure. All he can make out is short, curly blonde hair, a red denim jacket, and black jeans. Their legs are crossed.

“Taako,” they say, and it’s Lulu’s voice coming from the figure. “Taako, it’s--it’s me. I can’t--I can’t show my face to you, it would do--terrible things to your mind. But I had to come to you. I had to.

“Taako, I know you don’t trust me. You don’t have to trust me--you have almost no reason to trust me. But--I guess--it’s nice to know that you can see me. It’s nice to know that, in some convoluted way, we still grew up together.”

“Who are you?” 100 asks.

Lulu’s shoulders hitch. “Someone who loves you, Taako,” they say, their voice thick with emotion. “Now--go back to sleep. Rest. You have to get well.”

And the Dark Place fades.

* * *

 

100 wakes up slowly, groggily. Disoriented, he takes a few moments to blink and discern where he is. It takes him a bit to remember where he is--the room of the nice old man with the plants. _What’s his name? Merle,_ he thinks, his brain a little fuzzy.

100 looks through the window. It used to be sunny outside, bright, but now it’s dark. Clouds coat the sky in a thick blanket, roiling like black sea foam. Lightning flashes dully within them, some lone photographer taking a picture of the earth from above. The pale grey mountains stand out starkly; jagged teeth bared raw against the pitch black backdrop. There’s a distant rumble of thunder. Wind tosses the branches of scattered trees; they move like they’re seizing--jerky, distinct, violent movements, their limbs thrashing like death throes. He’s not certain what time it is; only that it’s dark.

Merle isn’t in the room, he realizes. Where could he be? He sits up slowly, propped on his elbows, and winces, the pain from the injections still raw and aching in his limbs. “Mer-Mer-Merle?” he says, his voice quiet, his throat dry. “Any-anybody?”

Silence greets him--a terrible, ominous silence, broken only by the first of many thick, glass-orb raindrops that splatter on the window, driven by the wind, and by the constant, deep rumble of thunder, and the low hiss of the wind. “Hel-hello?” he tries again.

Still no response. Resigned to his fate here, alone, he lays back down, flat on his back, staring up at the dull white ceiling. “You, you, you there?” he asks.

_Of course, Taako. I’m always here._

100 gnaws at his lip for a moment. “What, what do you, what do you do when you’re lonely?”

_Oh, Taako. When I’m lonely I talk to you._ Their voice is full of love.

“That’s, uh, that’s--that’s pretty sappy.”

_I’m your ######, Taako, it’s what I’m supposed to say._

“My what?”

_Your--shit. Taako, I can’t tell you, but you have to trust me. I’ll be able to explain everything as soon as you’re out of there._

“You, you, uh, got any plans you can tell me to get me out?”

_I can’t risk telling you, babe. I--_

Brisk footsteps echo in the hallway outside the room, coming closer. A steady _click, click, click_ can be heard over the pattering rain. “Shit, shh,” Taako hisses, and sits up again.

The door swings open. It’s big, metal, and right at the foot of his bed. “Mer-Merle?” he says, hope rising in his throat--but when the person steps into the room, the emotion turns straight to stone, choking out any joy. He can’t breathe.

“Ah, our prime subject,” the tall, thin man says, closing the door behind him. He’s wearing a nice black suit under a white lab coat. His face looks like a skull.

_Taako, don’t--be careful, this man--_

“Who are--who are you?” 100 says. His fingers clench in the blankets of the bed.

The man smiles, and it looks almost gruesome, pale lips stretching back like a prosthetic mask to reveal very straight, very white teeth. “Hello, Subject 100,” he says. His voice is rich, resonating somehow from within his skeletal body. “My name is Doctor John, and I have taken quite an interest in you.”

“What do you--what do you want?” 100 asks, fear in his voice, constricting his throat.

John’s smile grows slightly wider. He comes and sits on the foot of 100’s mattress. “How would you like to be of use to me?” he says, leaning forward slightly.

“Of--of use to you?” 100 says faintly, slowly scooting himself back on his mattress, drawing his legs up, trying to move as far from this man as he possibly can. His eyes are wide as he asks, “H-how?”

“Well,” John says conversationally, “you have something that I want. It is very important for me to have this thing. And if you let me use my science to take what you have, you’ll be able to get out of this Lab once and for all--no more doctors, no more tests.” He leans closer and, in a stage whisper, adds, _“Freedom.”_

“Fr-freedom,” 100 echoes softly, his posture relaxing, almost reverent of the word. His bright eyes meet John’s dark ones. “You mea--mean it?” he asks quietly. “I’ll get, I’ll get out of here for good?”

John leans forward, takes one of 100’s hands in his own. It’s cold. “I _promise,_ ” he says, his eyes glinting.

100 studies his face for a long few minutes. Then, quietly, he says, “O, okay. I’ll do it.”

_Taako, no!_ Lulu’s voice screams in his head, but John stands, unhooks 100 from his IV, and helps him to his feet with his cold, bony hands. The tiles are cold under 100’s feet, but he’s used to uncomfortable sensations by now. John carefully leads him, a hand on his arm, out of the room, down the dim hallway, and to a narrow flight of stairs.

“It’s just up here,” John says, and holds out his arm for 100 to lean on, helping him to climb the stairs.

“What are you--what are you going to do?” 100 asks nervously.

“Well, there's a procedure I've been working on which should work perfectly to get what I need,” John explains. “Once the procedure is completed, _I_ will have what I want, and _you_ will have a one-way ticket out of here.”

That sounds completely agreeable to 100, who nods eagerly as they reach the top of the staircase and enter a hallway lined with rooms similar to the testing rooms but these seem to be somehow even more official and stark. “First one on the left,” John says gently, and guides 100 through the door.

The room is large, rectangular, and full of a large assortment of people in white coats. 100 notices Doctor Waters among them with her smug smile, as well as Doctor Hallwinter, who looks terrified. 100 can’t help but feel a pang of anxiety at the look on Doctor Hallwinter’s face.

In the center of the room sits a stainless steel table with metal cuffs on it, where one’s ankles and wrists would rest. The sight of those cuffs makes 100’s heart skip a beat with fear. Something dark stains the floor beneath the table. 100 doesn’t want to know what it is.

Beside and around the table there stands a tall, boxy device of some kind. It’s well over seven feet tall and comprised of a black metal. Inside, a void-like black opalescent material swirls, glittering blue, red, green and gold. Long, thin wires snake off of the machine, ending in wicked-looking needles.

100 feels John’s hands on his shoulders from behind. “Ladies, gentlemen,” John says, his voice loud and ringing in the room. It commands attention. “Please greet Subject 100, our most valued and our most prized subject here at the lab.

“It has been nearly fifty years since we made him one of our own. Fifty years to study, explore, and test theories. Fifty years to figure out just what exactly makes his kind so very, very special. Now, we have confirmed our hypotheses. Through trial, error, and the help of our very favorite subject, we have narrowed down our research to right here, right now. Ladies and gentlemen, behold: the future.” John’s hands squeeze 100’s shoulders. “Our findings can only escalate from here--from here on out there will be nothing but success.

“Now, before we begin--any questions?”

Doctor Waters--the bitch--is the first to raise her hand. “Yes--uh, Doctor Ocras. How, exactly, did you know that this is the right one?”

“Well, you’ve seen the data, Elise,” John laughs. “He has a higher concentration of energy in his body than in any other subject we’ve had. His neurological spikes have been confirmed to be directly related to his magical energy--he’s a _psychic,_ Elise. The amount of power from just that connection alone--” He chuckles. “Well--it’s almost enough to fuel the whole project by itself. But beyond that, he also has some skill in--what was it? Transmutation? Incredible stuff. Simply incredible.” John’s bony fingers massage 100’s shoulders, and the chill from his hands and from the cold tile floor has seemed to have spread directly to 100’s heart.

They know.

“Uh--Doctor Ocras,” Doctor Hallwinter’s voice says, interrupting 100’s internal panic, “is this procedure in any way dangerous to the health of the subject?”

John laughs again. It sounds shrill to 100’s ears. “Of course not, Doctor Hallwinter. The procedure has been tested numerous times. It’s perfectly safe.”

_That’s a lie,_ Lulu says in 100’s head, and for once, he trusts her.

There are more questions asked--how does one go about the procedure, what hypotheses have you gone through, have subjects died in the past during this procedure--and 100 tunes them out, his mind gone sort of fuzzy with an anxiety set deep into his bones.

“Well, enough chatter,” John says after probably twenty minutes of questioning, his voice almost forcibly cheerful. “Let’s get this show on the road, huh?”

The scientists all assent, and John gets a hold of 100’s arm and leads him to the table. His thin hands, surprisingly nimble, undo the laces at the back of 100’s hospital gown, and he is left nearly naked but for his underwear in front of the audience of scientists; he flushes from his forehead down to his freckled chest as the eyes never leave him--humiliated, objectified.

John’s cold hands under his arms startle him--all facades of gentleness are gone as he picks him up with surprising strength and positions him on the table, then cuffs his wrists and ankles to the ice-cold stainless steel. 100’s heart is pounding; he can feel it in his ears, a bass drum highlighting the rhythm of his escalating panic. _Please, please, please,_ he chants in his head, _please, Lulu, Magnus, Merle, somebody, please--_

Above him, John leans over, leering. “Comfortable?” he asks.

100 whimpers and shakes his head.

* * *

 

**Author's note: this is the beginning of the graphic stuff. Skip to the next author's note if you don't like blood, needles, gore, or graphic character death.**

**For those who keep reading: I'm sorry.**

* * *

 

“I’m sorry, not much I can do about that,” John says, his eyes filled with terrible glee. He takes a wire--no, a tube--between his two skeletal fingers and grabs onto 100’s arm with his other hand, exposing a vein. Carefully, slowly, agonizingly, he lines up the needle and slides it in.

The pain is almost exquisite with how sharp and practiced and excruciating it is as the needle just keeps going, going, going, seeming to never end--and then, it ends, and John withdraws his hand, and 100 shivers. “Number one,” John announces, and then he walks slowly over to 100’s other side (100 will never hear the _click, click, click_ of dress shoes on tile the same way again) and he picks up another wiry tube and he aligns the needle with 100’s vein and he inserts it into 100’s pale, quivering flesh with a barely-composed smile.

“Number two.”

The third tube is stuck slowly, slowly, into his left side, just beneath his rib cage--not into a vein, no, just slowly pierced straight into his flesh. And the fourth is a mirror of the third--but on this one, John’s excitedly-shaking hands slip and the needle digs a long, deep scratch across his ribs before jabbing into him, drawing another whimper from 100.

He's breathing like a scared animal now, dreading the next few seconds of torture, his thin chest heaving, his eyes blown wide with terror, his limbs wracked with tremors, and when John pierces the flesh of his stomach just above his navel, he can't help but give a little yelp of pain. _Merle, Magnus, Barry, Lulu, someone, anyone, please--_

The room is silent, dreadfully so. All eyes are trained on him, on John, and his muscles stiffen with a chilly wave of fear, and then a needle slides into his thigh and it _hurts._ “Please--” he gasps aloud. “Please--wai-wait, I need to--have to breathe--”

John leans down to put his mouth by 100’s ear. “I've waited far too long for this, elfling. There will be no more waiting today.” And he stabs the next needle deep into the flesh of his thigh. He steps back and takes another wire in his hand and that, too, is stabbed violently into his thigh. “I have waited for much too long, Subject 100,” he repeats, his voice ringing, piercing him once more with a vicious movement. “Today I will take what I want, whether you're ready or not.”

After his display of power, John’s movements return to their practiced, clinical state, his hands guiding each needle slowly to their necessary location. Each pinprick in 100’s body throbs with his heartbeat, pulsing around the intrusions, every cell trying to reject the thin metal that pierces his body, but to no avail, as John keeps pressing more and more into his body--down his legs, his arms, his stomach, his sides.

And then John steps up so he is beside 100’s head. “Two more,” he announces, not to 100, but to the audience. He holds up a needle, smaller and thinner than the others, and looks down at 100. His sunken eyes glitter.

And then he presses the needle straight into 100’s right temple, pushing until it hits the bone of his skull. Blood wells up around the intrusion almost instantly, and 100 tries to turn his head away from the pain, but finds he cannot escape it. “Now, now, elfling,” John says placatingly, “you should know better than to resist.” His fingers pinch another of the smaller needles, and then he slowly pierces it through his skin. 100 does not resist this time.

“Good,” John murmurs. He steps back, wiping a few drops of blood from his fingers onto his lab coat. “Now,” he says, “we are ready to begin.”

Lying there on the table, wires sprouting from his body like the stalks of strange plants, 100 waits, and he trembles. _Just a little longer,_ he tells himself, his heart still pounding with fear. _Just a little longer and then you’re free._

John’s clicking footsteps move from beside the table to the machine at 100’s head. “Some of you have seen my masterpiece in action,” John says. “Those of you who have have witnessed its many failures. But this time, it will succeed. This time, its purpose will be fulfilled. This time, we will harvest his essence straight from his living body and a new age for humankind will begin!”

And then he pulls a lever, and the machine hums to life.

The sound it makes is like a thousand orchestras playing at once, shrieking as it begins vibrating with the effort of fulfilling its purpose. It screams right in 100’s ears, the sound loud enough to hurt. At first, nothing else seems to happen.

And then the glimmering void from the machine flows through the tubes, through the needles, and as it enters 100’s body it feels as if he is being eaten alive from inside. Every cell of his body screams in agony, and he realizes faintly that he, too, is screaming. The void flows through his veins and spreads through his flesh and, through a haze in his still-open eyes, he notices that his skin is turning as black as the void itself, staining with the dark material eating through his body, searching for whatever it is it has been made to find.

But then something goes wrong.

Something dark and wet seeps through one of the wounds in his arm, still fresh from his injections the day before, and flows down onto the table, and drips off onto the floor. And then the same liquid, blood tainted by void, begins to drip from the other pinpricks, and then it leaks from around the needles, until 100 is coated in his blood and the black, acidic substance, and it drips down his body and covers him and coats him from head to toe and drips onto the floor and his heart spasms, weakly, as the void taints it, swallows it, consumes it.

His eyes are open, he cannot close them, the skin of his face is drawn taut by the horrible void, and he can see clearly how John, once gleeful, now looks terrified, panicked, pressing button after button on his machine, shouting things at the scientists that 100 cannot hear over the screaming of the machine.

And then, pain.

His abdomen tears open as the void rips through where the needles were placed in his sides and his stomach and 100 screams, muffled by the void still coating him, blinding him, strangling him, and he is oh so briefly aware of the chill that envelops organs that should not be feeling the cold air around him, of the hot wet slick blood that flows from his abdominal cavity, of the way the void is still eating at his very essence--

And then he is looking at his own body, still coated in black ooze, still feebly twitching as the void toys with his essence, split open and spilling its contents like a torn backpack spilling its books. Everything around him is greyscale, silent. All he can do is stare at himself--he’s dead, he realizes numbly. He’s just been killed here in the lab, split open and spasming like all the others.

* * *

 

**Author's note: it's safe from here to the end.**

* * *

When he manages to wrench his eyes away, he realizes that Doctor Hallwinter is shouting, is _screaming--_ John looks like he’s about to cry, not over 100’s life but over whatever it is that he’s just lost.

And then he’s just _hit_ with knowledge--it sends his mind reeling as he remembers his _sibling,_ his _twin,_ his _heart,_ the one who wanted to be called Lup instead of a name he does not remember, the one who was once called a boy but who had become a girl just days before she had been _stolen_ from him, taken by the men in white coats, and she had--

_“Lulu!”_ he screams into the silence around him. _Lulu,_ his twin, his sister, had been with him the whole time and he didn’t--couldn’t--remember.

And then the door flies open and in bursts Magnus, hands in fists, throwing punches left and right, pushing John aside and tearing the cuffs straight from the table, wrapping 100’s-- _Taako’s_ \--body in a sheet and pulling him into his arms before running, Doctor Hallwinter on his heels, and 100 feels himself tugged along, a magnetic pull attaching him to his own corpse, and numbly, he follows them, down the hall, down the stairs, out the doors, and through the gate, into the howling gale of the still-raging thunderstorm.

And back in the Bureau of Balance headquarters, Lup sits curled on the floor, the room around her engulfed in flame, and she screams, and she screams, and she screams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you skipped the graphic bits basically the machine malfunctioned and Taako died.


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet a love interest. A little old lady saves the day. Taako remembers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took FOREVER and I left u guys on a CLIFFIE I'm so sorry, my rsd was bad and I got distracted by other fics :')
> 
> Anyway greetings from college! Fics will probably update much more slowly until I adjust to college life but I swear I won't make you wait MONTHS for the next chapter of this fic.

Magnus is crying, the tears on his cheeks mixing with the rain. Barry, close behind him, is silent. Magnus can’t tell if he’s crying, too--the rain is coming down hard and fast.

Sirens wail in the laboratory and spotlights begin making rounds, but Magnus and Barry are already out of reach. Wind gusts around them and plasters the wet, blood-soaked sheet to Magnus’s regulation vest as they head for the discreet blue 1996 Ford Explorer parked just out of sight of the Lab--Magnus’s car. Barry scrambles into the driver’s seat, Magnus clambering into the back seat, Taako cradled into his arms, and as soon as doors are shut and seatbelts are strapped on they’re off into the darkness of the storm.

Magnus sobs, clutching Taako close to his chest, his huge body dwarfing the fragile thing wrapped in the sheet. This is probably the most gruesome thing he’s ever experienced in his life--and it happened to the one person he was most determined to help.

“Magnus,” Barry says. His voice is thick with tears. “What are we going to tell Lup?”

Magnus’s breath hitches in his throat. “She already knows,” he whispers.

“Yeah,” Barry says. “Yeah. But--what are we going to _tell_ her? I just--I stood there! I let it--” The car wobbles on the road.

“Barry, focus,” Magnus snaps. “We don’t need two more dead today.”

“Right. Right.” Barry lifts an arm to wipe at his face, and then they continue, silent, still, through the rain.

About ten minutes later, Magnus’s phone rings. He digs it out of his damp pocket and answers with a quiet, “Yeah?”

“Magnus.” It’s Lucretia. “Go to Refuge. Paloma’s. I’ll meet you there.”

“Right,” Magnus says, and hangs up. “Barry--go to Paloma’s. Lucretia will meet us there.”

“I--yeah,” Barry says, and hangs a left.

* * *

Paloma’s house is nice, if a little old-fashioned. Her couches are paisley-print and she has a lot of antique knick-knacks sitting on shelves. There’s always something baking in her oven, and always at least three more fresh-baked things sitting on the counter. Her house smells of yeast and sugar and talcum powder.

When Magnus and Barry burst through her door, Paloma looks up from her cup of coffee, and so does a handsome, dark-skinned man in a nice suit. They both look startled.

“Who are you?” Magnus asks the handsome man.

“I could ask you the same thing,” the man replies indignantly. “ _I_ am having coffee with my very good friend. What are _you_ doing here? What’s that you have?”

Magnus glares. “It’s very important that we talk to Paloma right away, strange man in a suit.”

“Magnus,” Paloma says, setting down her coffee mug and getting up. “What’s happened?”

Magnus looks down at the sheet-wrapped figure in his arms, and clutches it a little tighter. “Something really bad,” he says.

“There was a malfunction in the lab. John tried his _creation_ again,” Barry says bitterly.

The handsome man stands up. He’s staring at a point just over Magnus’s shoulder. “It was an elf who died, wasn’t it?” he asks.

Magnus looks back down at the sheet. It covers everything. He looks back up. “Ye-e-es,” he says slowly. “How did you know?”

The man points to Magnus’s right shoulder. “He’s right there.”

* * *

100--Taako, his name is Taako, he’s not a subject anymore--watches as Magnus cries over his body, as Barry almost crashes the car in his grief, as the rain comes down in sheets around them. He watches as they climb out of the car and run down a neatly kept sidewalk, bearing his body, to a quaint little house, and burst in. He watches as a little old lady greets them, and as a handsome man almost spills his coffee all over his nice suit.

Everything is still a world of greyscale silence.

Except for the man in the suit.

His skin is a deep, rich brown, soft and smooth. His hair is a dark, lustrous black, almost blue. His eyes are a bright, glowing red. When he speaks, Taako can hear it. And he looks directly at Taako and makes eye contact.

“It was an elf who died, wasn’t it?” he asks, probably to Magnus, who 100 can’t hear. The man doesn’t take his eyes off of Taako, who stares at him in something like disbelief. Then, he points at Taako and he says, “He’s right there,” and everyone in the room goes wild, looking around for him. It’s almost funny, how desperately they look right through him.

The man raises a hand and gives a slight wave. Taako raises his own hand--he can see through it, isn’t that wild--and waves back. “Hi,” he says, and--wow, he doesn’t have a stutter, isn’t that something? “I’m Taako. Y’know, from the Lab?”

The man smiles and walks over to him. “I’m Kravitz. I work as a bounty hunter and soul collector for the goddess of death.”

“So... you’re like… the grim reaper?” Taako asks, tilting his head.

“I… suppose, if you want to put it that way, yes,” Kravitz says, laughing a little.

Taako considers this. “Hot,” he finally says, because that’s the only word for this man, with his cheekbones and his nice smile and his well-tailored suit.

Kravitz looks a little startled, but, then again, so does everyone else in the room, so he’s nothing special. “I--thank you?” he says.

Taako shrugs. Everything feels kinda numb. He opens his mouth to make another comment, but the door flies open and there stands--

A woman, tall and slender, elegant and imposing. Her close-cropped hair is white, contrasting with her dark skin which glistens with rainwater. She seems to have hastily thrown on a denim jacket over the white blouse she wears tucked into khakis. Even in this business casual outfit she is almost intimidating--except for the look of dread on her face.

She says something urgently, frantically.

Magnus turns to the woman and replies, and then he carefully opens the sheet in which Taako’s body resides. The woman gasps, her horror silent, and her hands fly up to cover her mouth.

Peering over Magnus’s shoulder, Taako supposes that most people would not really appreciate seeing his body in such a state.

* * *

**Author’s note: the following content might be sensitive for some readers. Please use discretion if you are not comfortable with graphic descriptions of gore, blood, or character death. If you do not like this content, please skip to the next author’s note.**

* * *

His face is lined with black, traces of the void still in his veins, and coated with dried blood. His abdomen is a mess--he can’t tell what’s blanket and what’s flesh. He can see traces of viscera and organs peeking out through the split skin. His eyes are wide open, and they also have turned black. Everything is tainted dark with blood and void.

* * *

 **Author’s note:** **this is the end of the graphic paragraph. The following content is safe.**

* * *

Taako looks up from his own body and back at the small assembly of people who all seem absolutely horrified at his demise. He's not exactly sure why; the only people here who he knows are Magnus and Barry. Why do they all care so much?

The little old woman who, until now, had been standing silently and watching the whole thing, now says something with no small amount of urgency. Magnus nods and follows her as she walks quickly from the room and throws open a door to a descending staircase. Taako trails behind, and the woman, Barry, and the Grim Reaper slowly follow, descending into the basement.

* * *

“It smells like formaldehyde down here,” Barry whispers. Magnus thinks he sounds a little too excited. He's right, though; the strong chemical odor cuts through the stench of blood and death that comes from the thing in his arms, and he's not sure whether to be grateful or disgusted.

Behind him on the stairs, Kravitz mutters, “It smells of necromancy is how it smells.”

“Put him on the table,” Paloma says in her thick accent, gesturing to a stainless steel table in the center of the room. Around the walls there are shelves, which are full of books, medical tools, and jars. Magnus complies, the sheet falling away to reveal the thing within it, and Paloma shakes her head sadly. “This will be a hard one, but I can do it,” she tells the group.

She gathers some tools and approaches the table. “Hello,” she murmurs to the body. “We’ll have you up and about in no time.” And she sets to work.

A good portion of what she does is lost to the majority of the group, but Barry seems intrigued and Kravitz looks like he's about to be sick. Once she cleans the body of fluids, she closes the opened cavities and gashes with a needle and thread. His veins are still black and jut from his body, his wide-open eyes black, even the whites. After a few minutes of fussing with equipment, Paloma gently inserts an IV and a catheter into the limp body.

“Alright,” Paloma chirps. “Kravitz, cover your eyes.” After a beat, where Kravitz claps his hands over his eyes, she stretches her hands out, crooked like claws, and she intones something unintelligible in a deep voice, her eyes rolled back into her head.

Taako’s body glows unnaturally, every vein highlighted, his eyes filled with pure arcane light, his lifeless body arching off the table. In an instant, the plastic medical bags attached to the IV and catheter fill with a thick black liquid.

There is a beat. The ensuing silence is tense, almost tangible, as everyone waits to see what will happen. Then, in a spasmic motion, the elf draws in a long, gasping, heaving breath, his eyes wide and a brilliant violet, his fingers scrabbling at the stainless steel table. He wheezes out the breath, coughing out something dark and thick, and then he intakes another one, and then he _screams._

* * *

The sensation of being drawn into his body is strange at first, and then it is _intensely_ painful. His lungs are empty and feel full of something thick and awful. He gasps in, trying to fill them, trying to get air flowing in his body, and it hurts _so bad._ The horrible congealed fluid rises in his windpipe and he coughs it out and gasps air in and it _hurts_ and he screams and screams and _screams,_ and his throat is raw and hoarse and slick with the taste of iron, and he hears some distant voice shouting something, and then he is unconscious.

When he wakes again, the first thing he notices is that he is covered in something thick and soft and warm, and whatever he is lying on is just as soft. His body aches, but it's muted now--a slow, dull throb. Slowly and carefully he pries his eyes open, and he blinks because he _must_ be dreaming, because that's _his face._ “H-hey, Taako,” not-him says, their-- _her--_ voice thick with emotion, her eyes red and glistening.

It takes him a moment, but when his sluggish brain puts two and two together, he manages to gasp out a weak, “...Lulu?”

* * *

When Lucretia called Lup, the girl had been curled up in a corner, trapped by a fire of her own making, sobbing harshly, her arms wrapped tight around her stomach. It had taken three tries for Lup to pick up. But when she did, and Lucretia said, “Come to Paloma’s. You’ll want to see this,” Lup _knew._ Standing from her miserable position, Lup extinguished the flames with a wave of her hand and strode from the building, her high-waisted jeans singed and her T-shirt a mess of soot and tears. A Bureau employee transported her to Paloma’s place, and Lup was out of the vehicle before it had even rolled to a stop.

She burst through the door and into the living room in a blur of blonde hair and ash and demanded to see her brother. “Where is he?” she said, nearly screaming, almost ready to tear out her hair. “Where is he?”

And Paloma had led her to the room in the basement, hidden by a soft mint-green curtain, wherein there was a large, plush bed, and in that bed, thin and horribly pale, eyes sunken into their sockets, laid Taako, her brother, her twin, her heart.

“Is he… will he remember me, Paloma?” she asked worriedly, wringing her hands as she stood and stared at him.

Paloma smiled softly, then, and put a hand on Lup’s arm. “Don’t worry,” she said gently, “he has been inoculated. He will know you.”

It took _hours_ for him to wake, but Lup waited. She waited, and waited. Paloma brought her coffee, and scones, and books, and Lup just sat and stared at her twin.

At last, though, he coughs, and his fingers twitch, and Lup drops the plate that was on her lap as she stands up, tears that are not new spilling from her eyes, and when his eyes open, she says his name, she greets her brother face-to-face for the first time in over fifty years, and he peers at her (and for a moment her heart stops, maybe the inoculation didn’t work, maybe he still doesn’t remember her, maybe he’s broken), but then a look of recognition crosses his face and, in a weak voice, he says her name, too, and she can’t help but smile and kiss his stupid face. “Taako,” she breathes against his forehead. “It’s okay, now. It’s okay.”

And maybe they both cry for a little bit. But they’re not sad. Not anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyway pls come yell at me or send me art or smth at @themindofcc on tumblr!!


	9. Chapter 8, Finale Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taako has a crush. Lup has a plan. The BOB fucks shit up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a long time don't @ me
> 
> Anyway I'm :3c at my readers please enjoy this chapter!!!

The group gathers slowly throughout the course of the next week. Magnus stays for about a day after bringing Taako in, then he goes to retrieve Julia. She and Taako instantly take a liking to each other; she's soft and gentle and careful with him, and always has a pleasant smile. Taako trusts her instantly.

Merle comes shortly after, escaping the lab in a bit of a rush after they find out who he’s really working for. He comes barreling through the door close to midnight, his arms full of potted plants, and he immediately asks to see Taako who, to many people’s surprise, seems incredibly glad to see him. He even cracks a smile. 

Davenport shows up last, bringing with him blueprints and maps of the Lab. He goes to visit Taako like the others, but doesn't say much. Taako doesn't know much about him but he knows that, despite Davenport's brusqueness, he can trust the gnome. At least, that's what everyone tells him. And since he trusts all of them, he believes they're telling him the truth.

Taako quickly learns of the relationship between Barry, Lup, and Lucretia. Despite his condition, and the fact that he barely knows any of them, he still manages to tease his twin about her dating two nerds every chance he gets. It’s worth it to see her smile and blush. Besides, he likes Barry and Lucretia, even if Barry had to do horrible things to Taako while he was in the Lab. It was never Barry’s fault, he was just doing what he had to. And Taako, hesitatingly, trusts him, because if his sister could look at Barry like  _ that, _ well then, Taako would do his best to like him. He wants her to be happy.

Kravitz, surprisingly, sticks around after Taako’s resurrection. He  _ says _ that it’s just to observe Paloma, to make sure she doesn’t get up to anymore illegal magicks, but a few people begin to notice how much time Kravitz spends hovering near where Taako lays recovering. It’s a little incriminating.

They also notice how Taako perks up when Kravitz is near.

The day after Taako is stuffed back into his awful, awful body, full of stitches and life once more, he is dozing, Lup is off cooking, and he is alone in his curtained-off room. Or, at least, he’s alone until he spots the curtain moving. “I can see you,” he croaks. His voice is awful, all rough and wrong.

“I--sorry, I was just--” The curtain moves again, revealing--

“Hachi  _ machi, _ ” Taako breathes. The man is  _ gorgeous,  _ now that Taako isn’t too dead to appreciate the work of art that is in front of him. “You’re,” he pauses, lets himself breathe. “You’re the Grim Reaper from yesterday, aren’t you?”

“I… yes, my name is Kravitz,” Kravitz says politely. He gives Taako a nervous-looking smile. “How are you… feeling?”

“With you here? Absolutely peachy, my dude.” He’s  _ not, _ but jeezy creezy if this man isn’t Taako’s whole entire Type.

Kravitz’s cheeks go a little red, and his nervous smile turns flustered. “I--thank you?” he says. His hands come up partway, as though he wants to cover his face but can't quite manage. “I'm--I'm flattered, really.” He ventures closer to Taako. “You shouldn't be… here, Taako,” he comments quietly.

“Yeah, thug, I know that.” Taako grins. “I should be dead. Gone. Away in the Astral Plane or wherever we go when we get offed.” He narrows his eyes at Kravitz and sits up slightly. “So why am I still here, death boy?”

“I… I let Paloma resurrect you,” Kravitz says, biting his lip like it's a crime. “I was not… supposed to do that.”

“So why  _ did  _ you?” Taako asks irritably. He's getting sick of Kravitz dancing around the point.

“Because… I was curious. I've never… what happened to you, Taako--I've never seen something like that before. I've never seen someone's soul… attached to their body like that. I think…. I think Istus wanted you to, uh. Stick around.”

Taako’s head is swimming, and slowly, he lowers himself back down. Closing his eyes, he says, “So you're saying, Krrrrrravitz, that some, uh, some goddess wanted me to get stuffed back into this--this, uh, this flesh prison, after it had been ripped up and sewed back together, and she wants me to keep living after everything that those--those  _ scientists _ did to me? Is that--is that what you're telling me?”

“I--yes?” Kravitz sounds a little offended.

“Cool. Cool.” Taako’s voice is weak and exhausted. “Great. Do me a favor, bone boy, and tell her how  _ much _ I appreciate every single second of pain I have to go through now, next time you see her.”

“That’s--Taako, that's not the  _ point. _ ”

Taako drapes a forearm across his eyes, a little melodramatic. “Then what  _ is  _ the point, Bones?”

“The point is, you're not finished here!” Kravitz says. “The  _ point _ is you're  _ necessary _ . The  _ point _ is that you're  _ important. _ ”

“Okay,” Taako says tiredly. “Say I'm important. Why are  _ you _ so invested in this? I thought your job was to toss me into the Astral plane or whatever, important or not. Why are you here and talking to me instead of stabbing me or whatever it is you do?”

“I…” Kravitz looks awkward. “Um. If I said I'm lonely would you believe me?”

Slowly, Taako removes his arm from his face to look at the reaper with incredulity. “What?”

“I, um.” Kravitz's eyes are downcast. “Don't have many friends. And, I saw your ghost and thought--well. First I thought ‘That's weird’ and then I thought ‘He's cute’ and now I'm all confused but I just. Wanted to get to know you? I guess?”

Taako squints at him. “A likely story.”

“No, no, it’s--I wouldn’t--I wouldn’t  _ lie _ to you.”

“Lots of people have said that to me in the past 50 years or so. Why should I believe you? And if you say it’s because you’re  _ different _ I’ll--I’ll do something drastic. That I haven’t thought of yet. But I will. Eventually. Get there.”

Kravitz breathes out something of a laugh. “It’s not--that. I mean. I’m probably different from those  _ bastards  _ in the lab but. That’s not it. I just… Taako, we’re both lonely people, from what I’ve learned. We’ve spent a good portion of our lifetimes--or, in my case, deathtimes--with limited contact and even more limited friendship. And I--you know, I feel a… connection. To you. Sort of.”

Taako does not say that his weakened, tainted heart is thudding with panic and something that isn’t panic. He’s afraid but he’s… curious. Entranced. Excited. So he allows himself a small smile as he admits to Kravitz, “Hm. Well, I think I’m feelin’ a bit of a connection to you, too, my man.”

And Kravitz smiles back. He stays awfully close to Taako after that.

Taako, somehow, doesn’t mind.

* * *

“It’s time,” Lup says, a week after Taako is resurrected. “It’s time for the final phase of our plan.”

She is standing in the middle of Paloma’s kitschy living room, the scent of herbal tea wafting from a cup that is cradled in the old woman’s hands. Arranged in a ring around her, those who can’t fit on overstuffed armchairs and sofas standing to her sides and back, are Barry, Lucretia, Davenport, Paloma, Kravitz, Magnus, Julia, and Merle. “Are you sure?” Davenport asks, his voice quavering but commanding. “Are you sure this is the best time for us to act?”

“Dav, it’s the only time,” Lup insists. “Any longer and they’re gonna find Refuge. We can’t let them find us, Dav.”

Davenport nods gravely. “If it’s what must be done.”

Lup flashes a grin. “Rad.

“Alright, team,” Lup continues, her commanding voice laced with excitement. “This is how it’s gonna go. We’re gonna find that machine ol’ Johnny Boy’s got, and we’re gonna wreck it, and then we’re gonna wreck  _ him. _ And  _ then, _ we’re gonna burn the whole entire Lab to the  _ ground. _ ” Her eyes are wild, full of rage and fire. Lup is a raging tempest, and she is going to get her revenge.

“Sounds good,” Magnus says gleefully. “Question: can I punch?”

“You can punch to your heart’s content,” Lup confirms. “No holds barred, folks. Go batshit fuckin’ crazy. Commit mass murder if you want.”

“Uh, Lup--” Davenport tries.

“Just fuckin’ end em,” Lup continues wildly. “Kill those fuckers. Burn it to the ground. Destroy it  _ all. _ ” Her hands glow with heat.  _ “Ruin them. _ ”

“Lup,” Barry says, gentle. He takes one of her arms and holds her. “Don’t get carried away. Okay?”

She nods. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I just.” She clenches her fist, and it erupts in flame for a brief moment. “I really want my $15 back from that lab technician, Greg  _ fucking  _ Grimmaldis.”

The room erupts into laughter, and the tension breaks. They’re ready.

It’s time to act.

* * *

“Hey.”

“Mmm?” Kravitz turns away from the book he’s reading and looks towards Taako, languishing in his bed. “What’s up?”

“You going with the gang to wreck the lab today, or whatever?”

“No.” Kravitz shakes his head. “It’s not my fight. Also,” he adds more quietly, “I think I’d rather be here with you anyway.”

Taako laughs softly. “Stupid. Go kick ass. More fun than being here.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Kravitz says casually, turning back to look at the pages of the book. “There’s a cute elf back here that I wouldn’t mind chatting with while his friends go on a wild rampage.”

“Oh?” Taako says, deceptively cool, contrary to the heat rising in his still-pale cheeks. “Does this cute elf have a name?”

“Mm. I can’t quite remember. Starts with a T, I think. Ends with an o.” Kravitz flashes him a quick grin.

Oh, no. He’s cute.

Taako turns his head away a little too fast, his face flushing bright red. “Don’t think I know ‘im,” he mumbles into his pillow.

“That’s too bad,” Kravitz teases. “He’s really cute. I think you’d get along with him.”

“Shit,” Taako says, the expletive muffled by the fabric of the pillow. “Sure do know how to flirt with a guy, huh, Krav?”

“I, uh. Haven’t done this in a while. A  _ long _ while. I’m surprised I’m doing so well.”

There’s a silence where neither of them speaks. When it starts to get awkward, both speak at the same time.

“I’m s--”

“I don’t--”

“No, no, you can--”

“Sorry, you--”

They laugh, try to brush it off, and try again.

“You go first,” Kravitz says.

“Oh, I--uh,” Taako starts. “Uh. I’m not--I don’t think I want. This. Something like.  _ That. _ You know? It’s. Nothing about you, I promise. Just. Y’know. Some shit happened to me and. I don’t think I’m ready for this kind of thing? Yet?”

“Oh, I--no, I get it, really, it’s. I wasn’t expecting--you know. I wasn’t expecting it to work. I’m fine just--being your friend, really. That’s all I really want, or even need, honestly.”

There’s another silence.

“So, uh, you’re--you think all this is.  _ You know?” _ Taako says suggestively.

“Uh. Yes? I suppose?” Kravitz tries, hesitant.

_ “Nice.” _

Kravitz laughs. “Yeah. But--” He waits for Taako to meet his eye again. “We can take this as slow as you want, okay? I’m fine for being nothing more than friends if that’s what makes you feel comfortable.”

“Ugh. Fine. Stop being so--considerate.” Taako can’t hide the smile even with his flippant tone.

“Sure,” Kravitz says fondly, and he resumes reading once more.

* * *

“Alright, Maggie,” Lup whispers into an earpiece from her point on the roof of the Lab. “I’m gonna sneak in through the ducts. Which way is the hell-machine?”

“It’s in the center of the building. Middle room of the middle floor. Can’t miss it.”

“Thanks.” Lup giggles gleefully before sliding into the ducts with a dull  _ boom. _

Magnus directs her through the labyrinth of ducts as she army-crawls slowly through them, looking at the blueprints of the Lab that Davenport had provided. “What's it like in there?” he asks eagerly.

Lup sneezes. “Hm. Dusty,” she whispers in reply.

_ “Cool.” _

“Which way do I go?”

“Uhhh.” Magnus looks over the blueprints. “Right, then left.”

“Rad.”

He can hear a series of muffled thuds through his headset. “Got it?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Now you gotta go straight for a--”

Lup snorts. “Like I can do anything straight, ever.”

Magnus snickers. “Yeah. But seriously, just keep going. It’s gonna turn right and then sharp down to go to the next floor. Try not to slide down too fast and dent the ducts.”

“Gotcha.”

There’s several seconds of heavy breathing, muffled  _ thunks _ , and the occasional screech of metal. Then, Magnus can very clearly hear a quiet “Whee!” followed by a soft  _ bump. _

“You down?” he asks.

“Yyyyep.”

“Great.”

“Okay, gimme the nex--wait.” Lup’s voice drops to a barely-audible hiss. “I can hear someone.”

“What’re they saying?”

“Hang on. I’ll put the headpiece down so you can hear ‘em.”

There’s a pause. Then Magnus hears, “...can’t waste this opportunity. It’s going to work this time, I swear it.”

“You say that every time, John, when’s it going to be true?” The second voice is high-pitched and quavering, that of a woman, and Magnus knows exactly who she is.

“This time it will, Elise. I know it.”

“You better be right. I’m tired of throwing these things out. Especially after what happened with--” here she pauses.

“Subject 100?” John says tiredly. “Yes, I know. That was quite the unfortunate series of events.”

“It was. Oh, I’ve got reports from the people searching, they said they just heard of a secret town called Refuge? They have reason to believe that--”

And then there comes, to Magnus, a series of unintelligible noises. Most of which are screams.

Lup is shouting something about her brother, and Magnus can hear the crackling of flames. The woman--Doctor Waters--is emitting terrible screams, which then stop abruptly along with the sounds of flames.

“Shit,” Lup mutters as she replaces her headpiece. “Shit shit shit. Johnny boy got away and now he knows I’m here. I’m gonna have to run for it.”

“Need me to get inside?” Magnus asks.

“No, tell Dav to get in here though. I need you to direct me.”

“On it.” Magnus switches channels. “Dav, it’s a little earlier than expected but it’s time for Phase 2.”

Davenport’s high voice crackles through the headset as he confirms, and the second phase is set into motion.

Lup dashes through the halls of the lab, knocking aside any of the scientists who get in her way. Alarms shriek around her, but the only thing she hears is Magnus’s voice directing her ever closer to the source of all their problems. “How close am I?” she pants as she descends a flight of stairs.

“You’re gonna hit the floor it’s on right now. All the way at the end of the hall there’s a big metal door. That’s where you wanna be. I’m pretty sure you need an ID to--”

Lup kicks the door in with the added flourish of a gigantic fireball. “Magnus holy  _ fuck!” _ she screeches. “I made it! I’m in!”

And there it stands. The contraption that killed her twin. It’s surprisingly unobtrusive, colossally tall but otherwise undetailed, painted a matte black to hide the stained steel beneath. Tubes and wires snake out from it in all directions, and through a small window in this machine Lup can see a swirling black vortex, filled with flecks of red and green and blue and yellow. She doesn’t know what that stuff will do if she touches it, but it probably won’t be good for her. She has to destroy it. The whole thing.

“Mags, is everyone else in place?” she asks, her voice just barely controlled. The floor is covered in dark stains. She doesn’t want to think too hard about it, but despite her best efforts, she knows. It used to be  _ inside her brother. _

“We’re all in,” Magnus’s voice crackles through her headpiece. “Should we start Phase 2?”

Lup’s hands ignite in a blaze of vengeful fury, and she grins as she faces down the thing that briefly ripped her twin from her. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Taako is enjoying a nice healing nap when Lup’s voice rings inside his head.  _ Hey Taako! Wanna see something fucking awesome? _

“Is it the Lab going up in flames?” he asked. “Cause if so, hell  _ yeah. _ ”

_ Got it in one, my dude! _

Taako’s view changes almost immediately, and the first thing he sees is a  _ lot _ of fire. “Holy shit!” he says, and then he sees what is  _ on _ fire and something inside of him goes kind of…  _ cold? _ “Lu--Lup,” he says. “Lup, is that--”

_ It hurt you, _ she says, and the fire intensifies, blue-white with heat, and the metal is melting.  _ It hurt you, _ she repeats,  _ and it killed you, and now it’s never gonna hurt anyone ever again. _

“Lup--” Taako wants to shut his eyes but he can’t make it  _ stop. _ “Lup, I don’t wanna see it, I don’t--I can’t--make it stop, make it stop, make it  _ stop--!” _

The visual cuts out.  _ Taako. Shit, babe, I’m so sorry. I’m real fucking sorry, I shouldn’t have shown you, of course you wouldn’t want to see that thing. _

“I mean, uh--” Taako waits until his panic fades a little. “By all means, keep fucking shit up. I don’t want that thing to exist any more than you do. It just--made me feel--made me feel bad.”

_ Of course it did. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it’s good and demolished for you. I love you. _ And then her voice is gone, and Taako is pulled gently back into sleep.

* * *

The melted, smouldering wreckage of what used to be an instrument of horrific torture sits before Lup, now sad and kinda lame. A little bit of the black, tarry substance oozes out, and Lup sets it on fire.

“Magnus,” she says. “I fucked the machine right up. How are we?”

“We’ve got almost all the subjects out,” Magnus says. “We’re just about ready to start Phase 3, but we haven’t managed to locate John yet.”

“I’ll find him.” Lup turns and runs from the room and down the hall. “He's gotta have an office somewhere,” she speculates, “but where?”

“I know!” Magnus volunteers. “Ground floor. There’s a wooden door with his name on a plaque. It’s pretty hard to miss.”

“Yeah, and it’s also pretty hard to get to the ground floor,” Lup gripes. “I'm gonna try to find Greg on my way down. Maybe I can get my fifteen dollars back. You better believe--”

“Touching revenge story, Lup, but you've gotta hurry. Time is of the essence and all.”

“Right, right! Sorry-- _ woah! _ ” Lup almost falls down a flight of stairs that come up too fast, and she slides down the railing instead. Time is of the essence, and she cannot afford to be slow.

* * *

Meanwhile, Dr John Ocras has hidden himself away in a secretive area of the lab, deep underground, away from the chaos and the intruders and the destroyers. A duplicate of his creation stands tall and ominous over him, looming over his thin form. It also towers over about 35 subjects, or at least the scattered, lifeless shells of what used to be subjects.

He opens a hatch in the black monolith and pulls out a small orb. It glows, gold and blue and white light swirling in its core. It's beautiful, the essence of the nonhumans, this little orb containing more power than any human has ever wielded before. And now he wields it. He wields it  _ all. _

At last, his machine has been perfected. At last, he has the power he needs to strip the magic from all the world and destroy all of the wretched non-humans!

John tips his head back and laughs, the maddened sound ringing off the metal walls. He is hungry. And he will  _ feast _ tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't all revolt I swear it's probably mostly fine


	10. Chapter 8, Finale Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything reaches a peak. Then, it falls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter doesn't feel long enough but it ended naturally so! Here's the penultimate chapter! The last one is going to be an epilogue, and then we're done here. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Slight content warning for a mildly gruesome character death.

Taako sits bolt upright in bed, dragging in a sharp breath, ignoring the pain that goes screaming through his still-healing body as he feels something like icy, clawed hands tearing at his essence. His own hands scrabble at his bony chest, trying to make the feeling  _ go away go away go away _ , and Kravitz drops the book he's holding to take Taako's wrists in his hand so the elf can't hurt himself. “Taako!” he shouts. “Taako, what's wrong?”

“Hurts,” he gasps, struggling against Kravitz's grip, eyes wide and unfocused, “it hurts it hurts it's in me it's taking me it hurts it hurts it  _ hurts--”  _ And here he wails, his rough voice breaking, as something  _ tugs _ at the magic tethered to his soul and almost yanks them both from his still-breathing form.

“What's in you?” Kravitz demands, his tone laced with fear. “Taako, what's happening?”

“It's  _ him,”  _ Taako gasps, tears of pain and fear rolling down his cheeks. “Doctor John. He's gonna--” His gaze focuses suddenly, staring straight into Kravitz's eyes, and his hands clasp onto Kravitz's. “He's gonna take my soul away.”

* * *

“Lup, we've got a situation!” Magnus shouts through the headset. “Something's wrong with Taako!”

“You think I don't  _ know?”  _ Lup shrieks. Something is wrong with her too--something is pulling at the cords of her soul, yanking at the magic threaded into the core of her being. It hurts, but what hurts even worse is the yet-unbroken string of contact between her and her twin, and the panic and agony she feels from him. She leans against the wall, trying to stay upright. 

“I don't know what's happening, but I know John is behind this,” Magnus says, clearly unaware of her own  _ situation _ . “If you could find him--”

“Y'know, Magnus,” Lup manages through the pain, “I really wish I could. But right now I'm having a little problem standing up and I need a  _ break. _ ”

“Oh shit, you too?” Magnus says, sounding horrified. He goes to say something else, then pauses.

“What, what is it?” Lup gasps out.

“It’s--it’s happening to everyone who was in there,” Magnus tells her grimly. “Davenport’s incapacitated as well. And the subjects we rescued.”

_ “Shit.” _ Lup runs a hand raggedly through her hair. “Shit shit shit. What’re we--Magnus, what do we do?”

“I’m coming in,” Magnus says, determined. “I’m gonna find John.”

“Magnus--Magnus no, we need magic to stop him--”

“No we don’t,” Magnus grins. “Not with these guns!”

Somehow Lup knows he’s flexing, and even through the anxiety and the agony, she grins. “Fine. Dork. Don’t die.” Slowly, she slides down the wall until she can hug her knees to her chest and try to wait out the pain. “And don’t take too long. The fates of every elf, gnome, and dwarf rest in your big strong hands.”

“Got it.”

And then he’s gone, and Lup is left to wait, helpless and in pain, for something miraculous to happen.

* * *

“Barry!” Magnus shouts into the headset. “Barry, I need help!”

“Things aren’t exactly peachy out here, either, Magnus!” Barry replies, staring at the hundreds of elves, gnomes, and dwarves who lie shaking, sobbing, screaming on the ground outside of the Lab. “Something’s wrong with the magic races!”

“I know, Lup’s out of commision, she told me I have to do this thing! But I don’t think I can do it by myself!”

“You're not--” Barry cuts off for a moment as an elf clutches desperately at his jeans. “Hey,” he says to them, bending over to touch their hand, “hey, it's okay, it'll be over soon. Sorry, Magnus,” he continues, standing back up, “it's a real--a real hellscape out here. You're not gonna take John out by yourself, are you?”

“I've gotta! Nobody else can!”

“Do you know how you're gonna do it?”

“Imma  _ punch!” _

Barry laughs, pitched high and frantic with nerves. “I dunno if that's gonna work…”

“It's all I've got!”

“Okay, I guess. Magnus--before you rush in, John isn't going to be in his office. He's got a secret level underneath the underground holding cells. I don't know how to access it but--you have to find it. He's there.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Magnus says, and then Barry doesn’t hear from him again.

“Good luck, big guy,” Barry mutters as he kneels to try to comfort the distressed people around him. “You’re gonna need it.”

* * *

Magnus finds John’s normal office without much trouble. It’s all the way on the bottom level. He just punches his way through the swarms of panicked scientists and bursts into the office, slamming the door shut behind him. “He’s gotta have, like. A secret entrance around here somewhere,” he says to himself, and begins digging through the room in hopes of finding a lever or a button that would open up a door to a top-secret elevator shaft.

He does not, in fact, find anything of the sort. The room is devoid of any hints of a secret entrance. Magnus curses. They’re running out of time. His friends could be dying, or worse.

Magnus breaks down the door to the office and rushes out into the hall. It doesn’t take very long to find the door that leads down to the holding cells, and he smashes into the crash bar, slamming the metal door into the wall as he vaults down the chilly concrete stairs into the basement level of the lab. When he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he looks around once more, and--ah! There! He gives himself a high-five. There’s a very small, cleverly disguised switch in the corner under the stairs.

He flips the switch, and a door opens up before him. It’s metal, barely distinguishable from the wall, and it slides back with hardly a squeak to be heard. Behind it is an elevator, and Magnus steps inside. The door slides shut, a light flickers on over Magnus’s head, and the car descends.

A creeping sense of foreboding clenches Magnus’s heart as he descends into the earth. It’s cold, and when the elevator comes to a shuddering halt and the door slides back, Magnus is struck with the musty smell of damp earth, along with a rich, irony scent that Magnus tries very hard to not think about. He ventures out into the hall, which is lit dimly with flickering lights, and follows his feeling of dread around a corner and to a heavy steel door. A bright white-gold light shines from underneath the door, and Magnus really doesn’t want to think too hard about that light.

“Okay, Magnus, you can do this,” he whispers to himself. “All you gotta do is punch open that door, punch John in his dumb face, punch whatever bad thing is making that light, and punch your way back to your friends.”

It’s a solid plan, he thinks.

And, without a second thought, Magnus rushes in.

* * *

A lot of things happen at once.

John turns to look at who just flung open the door.

Magnus runs full-force into John.

The white orb in John’s hand goes flying out of John’s hand.

John gets knocked backwards into his Machine.

The orb shatters on the ground.

The glass window on the Machine breaks, lacerating the skin on John’s back.

Magnus punches John, forcing him up against the Machine.

In unison, every single Lab subject goes very, very still.

The black opalescent fluid seeps through the cuts in John’s flesh and into his veins.

The eyes of every subject glow bright white.

John lets out a horrible, gurgling scream as his eyes are consumed in blackness.

As one, every subject takes in a giant, gasping breath.

A terrible spasm overtakes John’s whole body as something goes awfully, dreadfully wrong inside of him, and viscous black fluid pours from his mouth and his nose and his eyes and seeps from his pores, and his skin turns an awful charcoal color, and he twitches again, and then, as Magnus steps away in horror and fear, John falls still, and he does not move again.

* * *

Taako sits, gasping and retching, held upright only by Kravitz’s shaking arms, as he remembers how to breathe once more. His hair is a mess and his face is pale but he’s  _ alive _ . A sob wrenches itself from his throat and he slumps fully against Kravitz’s chest. He’s alive. It’s over.

It’s  _ over. _

Lup’s voice sounds in his head, weak but present.  _ Well that sure was something, _ she says, a shaky sort of joke that gets him to smile, if briefly.

_ It’s over, _ Taako says to her. He hopes he can convey the exact amount of relief he feels when he says those two words.

_ It’s over, _ she agrees.  _ We’re safe now. _

“We’re safe now,” Taako says aloud, and Kravitz’s arms come around him a little more tightly. It’s a nice feeling. Maybe someday, Taako will want something more.

Paloma is there in moments, clutching a cup of tea in one hand and a scone in the other. “You look terrible,” she says to the elf, and hands him the tea. “Please, drink.”

Taako cups the mug and takes a sip. “Thanks,” he manages.

“What  _ was  _ that?” Kravitz asks. “What happened?”

“Magic shit,” Taako tells him, and leans back against him, closing his eyes. “I dunno what happened, exactly. But it was bad news.”

“Well. I’m glad you’re alright now.”

“I will be,” Taako says quietly, and he believes it. “I will be.”

* * *

Magnus stands there in the underground laboratory, surrounded by corpses, unsure of what just happened in front of him. He taps on the headset until he can hear static. “Hello?” he says shakily. “Uh--hello? I did it.”

“MAGNUS!” Lup’s voice comes through loud and clear. “Magnus, my dude, how’d you do it? Did you punch him real good?”

“I, uh. I did,” Magnus says, and looks down at the body of the man. “But I don’t think my punching is what did him in.”

“Well, get up here and tell us all about it! I’m gonna set fire to this place in like, ten minutes, so you should get out before I wreck everything.”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, okay.” Magnus leaves the room, goes up the elevator, trudges up the stairs, and goes out the front door, where he finds Barry rounding up the last of the subjects.

“Magnus!” the man says, waving at him. “Good job, bud! You did it!”

“Yeah,” Magnus says. His voice is a little quieter than usual. “Sorta.”

“What do you mean, sorta? It’s over, we won! C’mon, you can tell everyone what happened later, help me get all these poor folks back to Refuge!”

“Where are we gonna  _ put _ all of ‘em?”

“Uh. Let’s… let’s leave Lucretia to figure that out,” Barry says. “We just need to focus on getting them inside somewhere.”

“Right,” Magnus says. “Uh. Uh. We should take 'em back to HQ. Everyone should fit in there. You call them up ahead of time, they need to be ready to receive.”

“Good thinking,” Barry agrees, and starts making calls.

Behind them, there is the sound of and explosion, and the Lab goes up in flames, and the former subjects let out a resounding cheer.

Hours later, when the freed people have been fed and clothed and given warm drinks and warmer blankets; when the Bureau, exhausted, dims their lights and everyone climbs into their makeshift cots; when Lup once more sits at Taako's side, sooty but finally at peace--when everyone realizes in a single moment of clarity that their torment is over and they are safe--there is a moment of calm. Nobody has much energy at all to celebrate, and so those people who made the victory possible: Lup, Magnus, Merle, Lucretia, Barry, Davenport, and Julia--gather in Taako's curtained-off little room with Taako and the reaper and they don't say much at all. Taako rests his head on Lup's shoulder, Kravitz's hand on his leg; Barry sits close to Lup, their hands intertwined; Julia sits on a chair, Magnus on the floor in front of her, his head in her lap, and she plays with his hair. Merle sits near the doorway, drinking tea with Davenport and Lucretia. The room is quiet.

“So,” Taako says softly, breaking the calm, “what do we do now?”

“We live,” Lup answers him. “We live.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to comment!


	11. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They don't just live. They thrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DOUBLE POSTING BECAUSE I HAVE NO IMPULSE CONTROL
> 
> IT'S DONE BABY!!!!!! WE'RE FINISHED!!!!!!!!!

_ [December 20th, 2018] _

It's snowing in Neverwinter, a bustling populace sized somewhere between a large town and a small city. It's located in Michigan, near the lake, and now that it's mid-December, the temperatures are freezing. Fat flakes drift from the cloudy sky, and Taako shakes his head and wrinkles his nose as one lands on the the tip of his nose. He's carrying several heavy-looking bags of groceries from the grocery store down the street, light-up cat-ear headphones over his long, pointed ears, some sort of bubbly pop music playing very loudly. It sounds like Carly Rae Jepson.

He walks up the steps of a twin townhouse, strides across the porch, and kicks at the screen door. He waits five seconds.

The door swings open, held by his twin sister. Her hair is long, colored blue and green, and the lobes of her ears are gauged. “Finally,” she grins, “people have already started to show up. Get in here, we've gotta start cooking ten minutes ago. Is that Carly Rae Jepson? I thought you had good taste!”

“What? I can't hear you over the sound of my excellent music choices!” Taako shouts theatrically, pushing past her and making his way toward the kitchen at the back of the house.

“Hi Taako!” Magnus shouts from the overstuffed couch he and Julia have commandeered along with their year-old daughter. He waves. “Nice headphones!”

“Thanks! Bought 'em at Radio Shack!” Taako drops the grocery bags on the island. “Hope everyone's okay with twice-fried plantains, 'cause I bought a  _ lot  _ of those not-banana shits. Also I like 'em.”

“I love those things!” Magnus shouts. Baby Burnsides squeals. “Can I help mash 'em?”

“Of fuckin’ course you can!” Taako ties back his shoulder-length dyed-orange curls into a small ponytail and begins washing and peeling the plantains.

“Is that the toilet mouth of Taako Taaco I hear?” The door swings open and in walks Merle Highchurch. “I hope this Candlenights party has those smashed banana things, otherwise I'm leavin’!”

“They're called  _ tostones _ and they're  _ not _ bananas they're  _ plantains!” _ Taako shouts. “Lulu, Magnus, are you gonna help me or not?”

The house quickly fills with the smell of hot oil, the sizzle of frying plantain,  and the shouts of laughter as more guests show up. Lucretia and Barry both kiss Lup as they enter, and Taako gripes at them to get a room. Davenport comes in with champagne and cheerwine and gets rousing applause. Baby Burnsides plays on the floor while a Candlenights movie plays on the television. Everything is lively and bright.

And then the doorbell rings.

Taako slides the last tostone onto the plate, turns off his music, and sprints for the door. “Please be who I think it is please be who I think it is please be who I think it is--”

He opens the door.  _ Yesss,  _ he cheers internally.

“Hi, Taako,” Kravitz says, his voice warm in contrast to the snowflakes behind him. Behind his back, his hands twitch nervously.

“Hey, handsome.” Taako steps aside to let Kravitz in. “Lookin’ sharp.”

Kravitz is actually fairly dressed-down in comparison to his typical three-piece suit. Tonight, he wears a soft, dark green sweater over a pale blue button-up shirt, paired with khaki pants and brown dress shoes. His hair is tied back in a loose tail. His glasses shimmer in the light from the living room. “Thank you. You look nice, too. Um… can I come in?”

Taako seems to realize that he's been staring a little bit. “Oh, uh--yeah, s-sure.” Taako quickly steps aside to let him in, closing the door behind him.

They've remained close friends for the two years they've known each other, but haven't moved beyond that. Now, however. Now, Taako is  _ very _ into this man and he would like thirty minutes with that slice of pumpkin pie, thank you very much. (Also, he might be falling a little bit in love. But he 1) doesn't know what that feels like, and 2) is not about to admit it if it's true.)

“Well, look who it is,” Lup sing-songs. “It's Ghost Rider himself, come to celebrate Candlenights once more.”

“Uh, yup, it's me,” Kravitz says awkwardly. “I'm--I'm here all the time.”

Taako snorts. “Sure are.” He nudges him with his elbow. “But that's because I want you here.”

“Oh. Oh, um.” Kravitz's hands do that thing where he goes to cover his face but can't quite manage to do that. Funny, he only does that when he's looking at Taako.

Lup looks at Kravitz. Then at Taako. Then at Kravitz. Then at Taako. She throws her hands in the air and walks back into the kitchen. “Okay, I'm done here.  _ Please _ go somewhere and talk? Privately? About this unresolved tension I've had to see for almost two years?”

Taako looks at Kravitz. Kravitz looks at Taako. “You, uh. Wanna talk?” Taako says.

“Um. Yes.”

Taako takes Kravitz's hand and leads him out onto the porch. “So, uh. Here's the thing. Back in the… uh. In Goldcliffe, there was a guy. Sazed. And he--he had me convinced that I was in  _ love _ with him. And so I would--I worshipped the ground he walked on, pretty much.” His hands tremble, not from cold. “Um. Anyway. One day, he. Tried some shit and got kicked out for it. Haven't heard a thing about him since. But--it really got to me, you know? I didn't--I didn't want a guy to treat me the way he treated me when we were in love. So--when I met you, I kind of…”

“Kept me at a distance,” Kravitz finishes.

“Yeah. But, um.” Taako looks up at Kravitz, nervous, wanting. “I think I'm ready to be in love again. For real this time.”

“Taako…” Kravitz breathes.

“Can you--is it okay if we--?”

Kravitz leans down until their lips are millimeters apart. “Of course it is. You only had to let me know you were ready.” Their lips brush as he speaks. It is electric.

Taako grabs him by the collar and pulls him down.

They don't come in for quite some time, and when they do, their hands are linked, their eyes are shining, and the flush on their faces isn't just from the chill. “Guess what, fuckers, Taako's got a new boyfriend!”

His announcement is met with cheers from most of his friends--all except Merle, who says, “Wait, I thought they were already dating?”

The night passes with festivities typical of Candlenights parties--there's a gift exchange, and silly games, and the baby falls asleep in Taako's arms. They sing songs and watch movies and Taako gets a little tipsy and hands off the baby to Barry so he can drag his new boyfriend off to a remote corner for a makeout session.

Eventually, as is inevitable, the exhaustion hits Taako, and he leaves for his bedroom upstairs for some dark and quiet. He flops onto his bed, belly up, staring at the shadow obscured ceiling, and the time passes without him noticing.

After a few minutes, Lup's voice reaches him.  _ Hey, Koko, you okay? _

_ Yeah. Just tired. _

_ Want me to come up? _

_...Please? _

There's silence, then Lup enters the room. “Hey,” she says quietly. “What do you need?”

“Dunno.” His scars itch and rub against his shirt, and he yanks off the offending garment. “Ugh. Can you just keep me company? Don't want to be alone.”

“Sure, babe.” She sits beside him on the bed, her fingers subconsciously touching her own stomach, where Taako's scars sit on his body. “They, uh. They itch somethin’ bad, tonight, huh, bud?”

“Yeah.” Taako huffs, running his fingers idly over the raised line of tissue. “Sucks. Dunno why I still get so tired. It's been two years.”

“It's gonna take time, yet, Ko. It'll get better. Don't worry.”

“Mmm.”

“Is it just the exhaustion, babe, or did you have sleeping problems, too?”

“Had some trouble sleeping. You know, the usual.”

“You haven't been seeing your therapist, have you?”

“Hate 'im. He's a damn racist.”

“Oof. We'll find you someone better after the holidays.”

“Thanks. He kept trying to convince me I deserved it. Called me some slurs. You know. I got tired of him real fast.”

“Ouch. That's the third one.”

“Yeah.” Taako sighs. “Maybe it's too fresh right now. I think I can survive on Merle's advice and black market meds til more open-minded people enter the field.”

“You shouldn't have to wait,” Lup sighs, and flops onto her back beside him. They're quiet, breathing and resting, until Lup says, “Hey. Happy Candlenights, Taako. Made it another year.”

“Happy Candlenights, Lulu.”

They link hands and stare up at the ceiling.

“Hey, Lup?”

“Yeah?”

“Love you.”

Lup laughs. “I love you, too.”

Downstairs, Baby Burnsides starts screaming. Lup sighs. “Want me to kick everyone out?”

“Nah,” Taako grins. “I kinda like having them here.” Lup's quiet, but when Taako looks over at her, she's smiling. “What's that face for?”

“I'm proud of you. It's only been two years but… you're living, Ko. You have a job, a social life, a boyfriend… it's nice to see you thrive.”

_ Thrive _ , Taako thinks, and he smiles too. “It's like you said, Lulu. It's just like you said.”

“Mm.”

They remain quiet, basking in the future they have--free, safe, alive.

Taako breathes in, opens his violet eyes wide, and he feels full. Full of love. Full of hope. Full of energy. Full of life.

He sits up. “C'mon, bet we can fit in one last game of Cards Against Humanity before the night's over!”

And, laughing, he and Lup join their guests downstairs once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading this fic! It's the first long fic I've completed for this fandom and I'm really proud of it. It took me a long time to get here but closure is so so sweet. You guys deserve this happy ending as much as the characters do. Find me on Tumblr, read my other fics, leave comments if you wish, and I hope you thrive. Thank you so much.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave some kudos/comments if you liked this!!! And don't forget to find me on tumblr @themindofcc!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Two Kids, A Kindly Stranger, And A Little Bit of Necromancy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13679499) by [Blizardstar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blizardstar/pseuds/Blizardstar)




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